Half Life 2: Shephard's Epic
by BlindAcquiescence
Summary: Memory restored, Adrian Shephard sets out to bring the Combine to their knees and free Earth from their occupation.
1. Black Mesa Insertion

-Shephard's Story-

-Black Mesa Insertion-

Private First Class George Tower shifted uncomfortably in the hard metal seating of the Osprey. _With the millions of dollars spent on these birds, the Brass couldn't spring for some cushions?_ He thought sarcastically. He gripped the M16A2 in his hands and checked the action for what seemed like the hundredth time. The long ride from Santiago Marine Base seemed to be marching on into eternity, with no end in sight. Their unit, the 501st Marine Force Reconnaissance Battalion, was reserved normally for active duty reconnaissance and hazardous environment combat, but in the middle of advanced training they had been rounded up and given orders to grab their gear and board the troop carriers.

"No questions asked, soldier". That's what Drill Instructor Barnes had said.

Naturally, the barracks were buzzing with rumors. Tower emptied his storage locker, frantically looking for his gas mask, an expensive piece of hardware and a mainstay of the 501st. Throwing boots and camo fatigues left and right, he was surprised when he came across his high school graduation picture. Tower took a moment to look it over, his sense of urgency replaced by longing. The corp. had been his university, he hadn't had the money to continue on with school, but the marines had educated him in every way that counted. Honor, Duty, Country, they were his principles, and what he lived by. Slowly, he put the picture on the top rack. He was by no means an uneducated man, but he sometimes wondered what the other road would have offered him.

Tower's neighbor next to him shouted across the room, breaking his reverie. "Eh Mac, what 'choo think da brass got cookin' for us dis time?" The marine was a tall piece of work, his skin a deep brown from years working in the hot sun of the Caribbean. His companion, in stark contrast, was a short pale boy that didn't look much older than twenty. The boy was carefully packaging a pair of night vision goggles when he turned to respond.

"Beats me, but maybe it's got something to do with all this special training." He went back to wrapping the goggles. The soldier had a point; their unit had been undergoing specialized "urban warfare" training the past three weeks. Tower had had urban warfare training before, and it wasn't like this. Urban warfare took place in cities, among buildings. Usually there was a four-man team that swept from building to building cleaning out hostiles and securing the city block by block. But the training they were getting now wasn't urban at all. They were training in teams of eight, inside the derelict underground silos of the military base. The objective in each exercise was simply "search and destroy", not to secure or rescue, as was the case in urban warfare. Tower had gone over it in his mind more than a few times, and couldn't kick up any kind of scenario where this type of training applied.

Another marine, busy assembling his M-249 SAW, Squad Assault Weapon, spoke up. "I got a buddy at the Comms center says the boys upstairs got some sorta top secret base they been usin' for all their dirty little projects. The skinny is that the base has got itself in a load of trouble, terrorists or somethin', anyways they need us to go in and clean up the mess." The buzzing chatter of the room quickly fell still. Government cover-ups weren't in their job description, but it was only a matter of time before the brass handed them this kind of assignment. Realizing he might have said too much, the private quietly returned to assembling his weapon, eyes downcast. "But you know those Comms boys, anything for a little attention…" The rest of the men went back to getting ready, silently wondering what was in store for them.

The doors of the barracks burst open, and a fully geared marine marched in, his M4 Carbine attached to his chest by a three-point restraint. Tower knew the man as his Captain, Percy Johnson; his appearance meant the birds were ready to lift off. The rest of the marines snapped to attention as one signaled his arrival.

"Cap'n on deck!"

The captain, a tall white man in his late thirties, took out a cigar and lit the end. Taking a drag, he let the smoke fume out his nose like a medieval dragon. "Alright men, the birds are fueled and ready for departure, report to the Helo pads in ten." The captain preformed an about-face and was about to leave.

"Sir! What's our mission objective?" Tower heard himself spout out, almost involuntarily. He couldn't take the anticipation anymore, the mystery was grating on everyone's nerves.

The captain turned and tapped his cigar on the doorframe, dislodging excess ash. "Wish I knew, Private Tower." And with that, he turned to leave.

X X X

And now here they were, shrouded in the red light of the cabin, all wondering if maybe they were in for more than they had bargained for.

Captain Johnson, who had been sitting next to him on the bench, unbuckled his harness and slid open the door to the cockpit. Air rushed in and the sky became visible, washing out the red light of the interior. The captain, normally an informal, friendly man, was tight lipped and tense. Back at the base Tower had seen the captain pulled aside by two MPs and taken to the Strategy and Comms center. At the door he was met by a government looking type, blue drab suit, pale complexion; an FBI paper-pusher who hadn't seen a field assignment in awhile. The captain met the men as they were boarding the bird, looking almost as pale as the government man. _What's wrong cap'n?_ Tower asked. Percy looked at Tower, fear showing brightly in his eyes, but it was soon replaced, or repressed, Tower wasn't sure which, by enthusiasm. _Come on, ladies! These Birds aren't paid to wait for your grab-assing! Ooorah?_

He let his rifle rest in his lap as he strained his vision to make out the bottom of the canyon floor that was framed in the doorway of the Osprey. "Where the hell are we?" He said aloud.

"The pilot thought we were headed to your mother's house, so far this all looks familiar." Staff Sergeant Jackson cracked, followed by his 'gufahing' horselaugh. At forty, some of the men thought Jackson was a little past his military prime. But he was the most experienced engineer the Marine Corp had to offer and had proven himself an expert shot with a Desert Eagle sidearm. He strikingly resembled a father figure, the meticulously trimmed beard, and slightly graying at the temples, but he still possessed the humor of a sixteen year old.

"Yeah that one's real cute Jackson…" He said, chuckling, he had known Jackson since Desert Storm, when they were part of the special operations that set the laser designators on important Iraqi military installations, which made the precision bombing so successful.

Mitch Jackson looked up to the front of the cabin, and saw the captain engrossed in a hushed conversation with the co-pilot of the Osprey. He reached into his front pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Choosing one, he lit and held the smoke in, slowing releasing it. "Anytime, anywhere, you know me."

Wilkes, the team medic, raised his eyes from checking the safety on his 9mm. "Jackson, you know those things will kill you."

"Kid when you been in this line of work as long as I have, you begin to pray that it's _these_," he said shaking the packet of cigarettes, "that kill you." Adding yet again his annoying horselaugh. The medic simply rolled his eyes.

Michael Wilkes had joined the unit after Desert Storm, promoted from the regular infantry. Tower and Jackson had taken him under their collective wing and shown him the ropes. Together they were a team of their own, them and of course Tower couldn't forget…

"Hey Shephard, what d'ya think the brass got set for us this time?" Jackson said, unharnessing himself and leaning across the aisle. He pulled the black welder's goggles from over his eyes, revealing prominently blue eyes. Corporal Adrian Shephard sat near stone still in his seat, only moving with the rocking motion of the plane, his tactical shotgun sitting between his legs, and his M-40 sniper rifle firmly secured in an overhead storage locker. In his hand was a copy of J.D. Salinger's _Catcher in the Rye_.

Adrian, though a close friend to the three Marines, was also the unit's one enigma. He'd been transferred to the 501st following the victory in the Middle East. The Major in charge had introduced him one morning at chow and said he would be taking the place of their sniper, who had mysterious been discharged for contracting a bad case of malaria, malaria in the _desert_. From that morning on rumors swept the unit about the origins of their new comrade. Some said he was transferred from another recon team because he had fragged an officer. One of the more wild rumors had him pegged as a psychotic killing machine and the government was using their unit as a guinea pig for their war game research. But Shephard himself didn't seem violent or psychotic, quite the opposite, the confident looking twenty two year old was rather content and quiet. He kept mostly to himself when he wasn't talking to Tower, Jackson or Wilkes. He was very intelligent, any effort to get Adrian to divulge a detail about his family or service record was met with a shrug. He spent most of his free time around the base working out, talking with the three marines, or reading. He read all the time; Tower had never seen him without a book in his hand. Shephard and Tower would commonly trade novels they had enjoyed, everything from H.G. Wells to Clive Cussler. But other than their own interactions with Shephard, they had given him his privacy, and he had rewarded them with rare and valuable friendship

Tower elbowed Jackson trying to lighten the mood, "Hey Shephard, I think Jackson here's got the hots fer ya."

Without turning back, Jackson flipped him the bird. "Hey screw you, Tower." He waited for Shephard's answer.

Adrian flipped a page in his book, and without looking up, replied to Jackson. "Wish I knew, Sarge. I heard the rumors though, but," he said raising his gaze from the book revealing his amber eyes, accentuated by highly defined cheek bones, small stubble, and his mysterious three inch scar along the left side of his face, "I find it a little suspicious that we've spent the last three weeks training for solely _indoor_ urban combat, and after a decidedly quick and quiet call to arms and a five hour flight later, we're still without our orders. And remember we're a hazardous environment combat ready unit, so…" He raised an eyebrow at Jackson as if to say _you connect the dots._

Tower sniffed loudly and cracked a smile from ear to ear. "Smells like another babysitting job to me." He elbowed Jackson and thought that a babysitting job sounded more relaxing than another three weeks of training.

Jackson leaned back in his seat, and took another drag on his cigarette. He obviously preferred Tower's suggestion to Shephard's vague allusion. "Yeah, no shit…"

Wilkes holstered his pistol, "Babysitting job my ass! This has training mission written all over it. Why else would they train us so long and keep our orders from us?" The four marines collectively frowned at the thought of what the brass had in store for them.

"Yeah what the hell is that all about? Throwing us in this hunk of junk, not even telling us what we're going in for!" Tower spat.

"Do you have a problem soldier? I will give you your orders when we have reached the LZ!" Captain Johnson yelled from the open door, his hand grasping the bars overhead for support. Tower straightened up and Jackson suppressed another laugh.

"Yes sir! Affirmative sir!" Shephard shook his head and continued reading his book. Over the loud speaker, the ramblings of the pilots radioing back and forth broke the ensuing silence.

"_Watch your vector goose three, it's getting a little tight in here._" The planes must be flying deeper into the canyons; Tower snuck another peek out the window and saw another troop carrier not three hundred yards away flying dangerous close to the canyon wall. Looking down he could see traces of humanity; huge pipes bringing in water, or pumping out waste, and the beginnings of small dirt roads, was there some kind of settlement out here? Was there really some sort of secret government research facility located out here in this god-forsaken desert?

Tower leaned over to Jackson, conscious not to let the Captain hear him. "Man this better not be another search and rescue mission or I'm going to be pissed." Jackson took another puff of his cigarette and blew smoke back in his face.

"Yeah _I'm_ gonna be pissed when I have to search out and rescue your sorry ass." Tower sneered at Jackson and leaned back in his seat, rubbing his eyes to force the sleep from them.

Captain Johnson stepped into the cabin and stood in front of Jackson, his eyes narrowing to slits. "Staff Sergeant Jackson!" He bellowed over the roar of the engines. "Smoking is restricted on all government and commercial flights!" And with that he grabbed the cigarette out of Jackson's mouth.

"Sorry sir! Wont happen again, sir!" The captain brought the still smoldering bud to his mouth and took a deep drag, before dropping it to the floor of the cabin and smashing it with his foot.

"See that it doesn't." He said, smoke ejecting from his mouth with each word as he made his way to the front of the cabin. Tower smiled and looked to Jackson, reveling in his sore pride.

Jackson mumbled and rubbed his beard, "Fucker's ass is as tight as a snare drum today."

"_Anyone got a good view of the LZ yet?_" Came another androgynous voice over the loudspeaker. Captain Johnson was again talking in hushed tones to the pilot, this time he seemed more frantic and several times he lost his cool and began shouting, but nothing that could be heard over the roar of the wind and other planes.

"_Negative goose seven, I can see some activity up ahead, but I can't tell what it is."_ The other pilot answered back. Jackson heard this and rubbed his gloved hands together.

"I don't care what we're goin' in for, 'long as I get to kill me somethin'." he said with a mock southern accent. Soon Captain Johnson was at the door again, with a commotion going on outside. The sound of something like a jet liner flew overhead. All the men stretched to look out the door, but Shephard had the best view.

"What'dya see Shephard?" Tower asked anxiously. Shephard didn't respond, he couldn't. The creature hovering above the adjacent Osprey was like nothing he'd ever seen. Like a levitating blue manta ray, some crazy artists wet dream, or the hallucination of a heroine junkie. Wilkes, seated next to Shephard, craned his neck and got his own view of the creature.

"What the fuck is _that_, captain! Is _that_ in the mission briefing!" The creature trembled slightly and a beam of yellow light shot from its body and cascaded over the ship beneath. Almost immediately the Osprey exploded, killing its entire crew.

"_Oh shit! Goose three's down! Goose three is down!"_ The men screamed and began unharnessing themselves as the sound of the manta ray creatures could be heard above their own Osprey.

"Jesus Shephard, we're fucked man, we're doomed! Game over man!" Wilkes screamed frantically trying to unharness himself. Shephard, scared shitless himself, grabbed his shotgun and looked to the captain.

"Jesus, I did not sign up for this shit." Jackson grunted into Tower's ear. Tower was already unharnessed and was about to get up when Captain Johnson kicked him back in his seat.

"Now listen up men! We have an extremely hostile situation! We're going in hot with heavy opposition so lets keep this tight!" The humming sound above grew louder and Tower searched the interior of the ship fruitlessly for parachutes, knowing full well there wouldn't be time to equip one. This sure as hell wasn't a training mission, this was all out war. The sound seemed to dull, though, much the same as someone slowly turning the volume dial on a radio. In slow motion he swiveled his head in the direction of the door, quietly contemplating how far the drop was, and if he could survive it. He looked to Jackson, another lit cigarette firmly held between two tense lips. Shephard had his hand on Wilkes' shoulder, trying to calm the terrified medic, all in utter silence.

But the sound quickly came rushing back; the humming, the chaotic radio chatter, the screams of the frightened marines, and the psychotic captain, having his own little mental breakdown.

"Your mission objective is to get…" But he was cut off by an explosion to the right of the plane. The vehicle dipped sharply to the left and the men who weren't harnessed, Tower and Jackson included, went tumbling into the wall on the other side. "Shit!" The captain said as he fell out the open door and into the canyon below.

"_Goose seven is hit! Right wing… gone… emergency landing…distress beacon activated."_ The pilot screamed over his radio. But Tower wasn't listening any more. Lying on top of Shephard and Wilkes, he had lost consciousness.

X X X

The world came back into focus with a hard lurch. Tower found himself reclined on dust and asphalt. The blue sky high above filled his vision, but he was alive. _Alive._ He squeezed his hand, straining to feel something other than the hot asphalt.

"Come on Tower, stay with me, man." A tired and bloodied Wilkes appeared above him, a worried frown plastered on his face. His white camouflage fatigues were stained with blood and dirt, his PCV, though, seemed brand new.

"He awake?" The gruff voice had to be Jackson. Tower blinked several times, he reached up, signaling he needed help. Wilkes helped him sit upright and Tower immediately began a hacking cough. A rough hand pounded his back, helping his get the dust out of his lungs. "There you go, you're lucky to be alive, y'know, that crash damn near killed everyone. You can thank me though for saving your black ass."

Tower looked around and saw that the Osprey, or what was left of it, was now lodged in some kind of electrical fence, sparks shot out of exposed wires. "How long was I out?"

Wilkes pulled a syringe from his med pack and jammed it into his bicep, releasing a cool and relaxing sedative to numb some of the pain. "Long enough to miss the fire fight." He said quietly. Tower looked to Jackson, his expression masked by those black welder's glasses, and simply nodded. Jackson leaned down and grabbed hold of Tower's arm, as did Wilkes. Lifting him up, they stood still for several seconds, letting Tower get his bearings back.

"I'm okay, really." The two let go and stood back. Jackson picked up the rifle lying at his feet and handed it to him.

"Think you dropped this." Tower shouldered it and bent down to pick up stray ammo clips, but they were covered in a yellow film, sticky and warm to the touch.

"What the fuck?" Tower rubbed the mucus between his fingers. Wilkes grabbed his arm and pointed to his left Tower suppressed a gasp.

The creature would have been at least six feet tall, were it standing. The skin was a light brown, covered in what looked lke sores. The head was like an insect's, with several eyes, all a deep red. Around it's neck and waist were what looked like green shackles, or armor, he wasn't sure. The fangs the mouth bore were sharp as a razor, and out of the chest there seemed to grow a third arm, but it was obviously mangled by a shotgun blast to the chest. The same yellow mucus oozed from the wound and pooled around the nightmare creature.

"After the Osprey landed, the few of us left alive bailed out and salvaged what supplies we could. But we weren't here more than twenty minutes before these things began appearing out of _nowhere_, and boy, were they coming out of the wood work." Jackson pulled out his Desert Eagle and slapped another clip into it, hearing the satisfying click, he continued. "From that third little arm there," He said pointing to the mangled appendage. "They seemed to discharge some kind of electricity, could fry a marine in his tracks."

Wilkes interrupted. "They seem to be vulnerable to regular firearms though, so we were eventually able to fend them off. The ones that weren't killed just disappeared in the same green light they'd appeared in."

Tower surveyed the rest of the carnage; a few of the Marines in his Osprey lay dead, their skin charred and black. He hoped Shephard wasn't among them, but first things first. "Where the hell are we?"

Wilkes grabbed his M4 carbine and began walking towards the entrance to a tunnel, the door slightly ajar. "Black Mesa Research Facility, at least that's what the brass said over the radio we had set up before it all went to hell. They were tight lipped about what those things are," He said pointing to another dead creature. "But apparently there are more of them, a lot more. If you ask me, they're some sort of government experiment gone ridiculously wrong. We were sent in as a clean up crew. But the mission has gone totally south, FUBAR," marine lingo for 'fucked up beyond all recognition', "And our only objective now is to make it to the nearest extraction point and get the fuck out. This is the air force's problem now."

Jackson sneered, "Wonderful fucking planning. None of the birds reached their LZ's, we're scattered all over the base! Let the fly boys and their nukes deal with this."

"What about Adrian?" Tower said, following the two into the dimly lit interior of the tunnel. Wilkes and Jackson slowed their pace and looked at each other, frowning.

"The kid took a nasty blow to the head when we landed. We had you two all ready for med-evac when the creatures came, some how he got lost in the fray, I haven't seen him since." Tower couldn't see it, but he knew behind the black goggles, Jackson's eye's registered concern.

"He's a good Marine, he'll know we have to be pulling out, lets just hope he can make it to an extraction point in time." From somewhere in the tunnel the thumping of shuffling footsteps sounded. The three marines trained their weapons on the darkness and Tower began to feel that maybe this nightmare was just beginning.

A/N: So what do you think? I wanted to use as much of the beginning dialogue of the game as possible to better tie in the story, but with a little more added to make it funnier. Please read and review. I write for the reviews, the good and the _constructive_ reviews!


	2. Belly of the Beast

-Shephard's Story-

-In the Belly of the Beast-

The alien's unearthly screams echoed off the warehouse's concrete walls. Shephard, his sniper rifle clasped tightly in his gloved grip, kneeled behind the pillar, hoping the creature couldn't tell where he was. But he was mistaken; this wasn't a slow-moving, unthinking brute like the rest of them. This was their leader, but what "they" were, Adrian wasn't sure.

The pillar shook as the beast swung its bulbous head against it, shattering the fragile hold the mortar and concrete still had on it. The tower swayed back and forth several times, warning the rogue marine of its impending topple. Shephard dove out of his cover and steadied the sniper rifle against the railing. The beast was smart, but it wasn't fast. He peered through the scope and lined the shot up with the large yellow eye.

"Breathe, hold it, exhale, and fire." Just like they taught him in basic. He took in one sharp breath and held it deep, as he exhaled he slowly, with the concrete pillar crashing behind, let loose one well placed 7.62mm round from his M-40 sniper rifle. The bullet found its target flawlessly, ejecting yellow puss from the eye and eliciting a carnal howl from the beast. That had been Shephard's life for the past forty-eight hours, living from bullet to bullet. His time spent at Black Mesa had brought back into sharp focus both his military training, and his darkest nightmares. From the moment he awoke in the facility's infirmary, to the moment he realized the Black Ops had every intention of killing everyone in the facility, Military and civilian, Adrian had been fighting for his life, against both Human and Non-human enemies.

This thing was definitely non-human. Standing at least over twenty feet all, this green monster looked more like some child's worst night terror made flesh and blood. Its bloated body sported several sharp arms and was capped with a freakish head lined with razor sharp teeth. Its mouth also had serious hygiene problems as well, spewing toxic waste at Shephard the second he came too close. The creature was now hanging its head, one of its clawed arms pathetically scratching at the defective eye.

Shephard took this opportunity to jump from his position to the left of the creature, and ran to the right of it. If he was lucky, he could get a shot at the other eye before it had to recoup and counter him. His boots slammed on the metal grating and his heart beat to the rhythm of his frantic footsteps. He wasn't sure what defeating this monster would do, but Adrian hoped it would end this mess. Once he was done, we would find Tower, Jackson, and Wilkes, and force them to buy him a beer, preferably ice freaking cold. Adrian had been worried most of his trek through the facility that his comrades had been killed in the ensuing plane crash. But while searching for supplies in a bombed out bunker he had been able to make contact with a Major Jameson.

"_Corporal Shephard, we've been left behind as well. I have hooked up with what's left of your squad, Delta squad, and we're trying to find a way to the surface."_

Adrian's heart began to palpitate rapidly; Jackson, Tower and Wilkes must be alive!

"_Major, are you accompanied by Staff Sergeant Jackson, PFC Tower, and Medical Officer Wilkes?" _He waited impatiently for an answer.

"_Uh, that's affirmative Corporal, I have the three marines in tow." _There was a rustling sound and the major was cut off.

"_Sorry major, this'll only take a minute… Adrian that you!"_ Shephard had never been so happy to hear Jackson's voice before.

"_Jesus,"_ His eyes almost welled up with tears. _"Thought you guys were dead. How're Tower and Wilkes?"_ Static screeched over the radio and Shephard had to strain to make out Jackson's reply.

"_Come on, kid, give us a little more credit than that. We've been looking for you all over though, where the hell have you been?" _There was another screech, but this didn't come from the radio, it was the distinctive cry of a vortigaunt attack. Jackson didn't wait for Shephard's answer._ "Never mind, listen, the major says the Black Ops are gonna blow the facility from within. We had twenty four hours," _He paused as the vortigaunt cry grew louder._ "About ten hours ago. We need to get out now, meet us sector Q Dormitories, know where that is?" _Shephard had no clue. But there wasn't enough time for Jackson to tell him, because gunfire erupted amidst the screams of his fellow marines._ "Just…the fuck out of here, Adrian!" _Jackson's garbled response came back. Then silence, nothing. Shephard sat in the bunker; hands still tightly clutching the radio, ten hours was enough time.

Wasn't it?

So here he was, in the bowels of the Black Mesa Research Facility, freezing, hungry, and desperately pissed off by the powers that be. The creature was still nursing its wounded eye when Shephard took aim again. Kneeling down in front of a pair of storage crates, Adrian brought his eye to the scoop, but what greeted him on the other end was the open maw of the creature's mouth, green sludge quickly oozing out to meet him. Shephard dove to the right, the acid gunk eating away the metal containers. The creature roared in frustration, due in large part to this puny little human that was keeping it from crossing over to Earth, to do god knows what.

Shephard wasn't sure what he could do now; he was out in the open with no time to line up a shot. The burning metal container began to spark, and sparked Adrian's interest. The side of the box read 'experimental equipment: classified'. The portion that was eaten away revealed what looked like one of the mounted laser guns Shephard had seen on his tour of the facility. Pulling a grenade from his PCV, he chucked the pin and counted to three. Throwing the grenade at the giant, it exploded in midair, momentarily throwing the creature back, giving Adrian enough time to pull the laser gun from the melting crate. It was bulky and heavy, taking all of Shephard's strength to pull it out and steady it against the railing. By now the creature was barreling down on the hapless Marine, its teeth glittering with saliva at the thought of a tasty morsel.

"Not today, fucker. Semper Fi." Shephard took hold of the grip and slammed his finger down on the glowing yellow button. The button signaled with a small beep and his heart rate quickened, waiting for the gun to let loose the red stream of death he was sure would save his life, but it never came. The creature, on the other hand, kept coming. Shephard began hyperventilating, and depressed the button over and over again, only receiving more beeps in return. What was wrong? He thought, why wouldn't it fire? Was it the sludge the creature had drenched it in? No time to find out, the monster lunged for Shephard, its maw bared wide. Adrian dove from his kneeling position, barely escaping the monster as it bit down on the railing, devouring the laser cannon.

This was it, Adrian lay sprawled out on the metal grating, and his rifle had fallen over the edge, clattering onto the ground several stories below. All his work had been for nothing, fuck saving the world, he had just wanted to survive this. The last thought Shephard had before the monster turned its greedy gaze to him was that at least maybe his comrades had survived. Shephard pulled his pistol from its holster and brought it to his head, not wanting to give this monster the satisfaction, but he was too late, the creature was already hunkered over the marine. As it leaned down to devour him, the creature began to lurch and shake, its body quivering spasmodically.

What the hell was going on?

Red light poured out of its mouth and a whining sound filled the warehouse. The monster cried out, its arms flailing and tearing away at the skin of its belly. The red light grew brighter and the whining turned to beeping, and soon the beeping became exploding. The laser gun must have malfunctioned and self-destructed. The creature screamed in agony as its lower half disintegrated before Adrian's eyes. The head fell to the floor, the mouth wide open, and its one last dying breath escaping pathetically. Shephard sat there, pistol still held firmly at his temple, his breath hard and rapid.

Soon his sense of touch came back, and the weigh of the pistol barrel became evident. His hand whipped it away forcefully. "Fuck!" he screamed into the silent room, almost as loud as the pistol shot would have been. The silence didn't last long, though, as the portal from which the monster had emerged began to fall apart. The room shuddered as the roof began to cave in. It was tearing this place apart, and Shephard needed to get out of here quick. He launched himself from his prone position and ran for the door to the elevator, a falling block of concrete, though, stopped his progress. Shephard saw it fall and threw his hands up in a mock defense, knowing full well his powered combat vest wouldn't protect him from a ton of rock. He waited for the rock to hit and end his miserable life, but the impact never came. Squinting through his tightly shuteyes, he ventured a look, but found he wasn't in the warehouse anymore.

In fact, he had no idea where he was.

X X X

In the black abyss that had become Corporal Adrian Shephard's prison, there was no sound, no light to guide his way, nor even to see his own hands by. He ripped his gas mask off and screamed, screamed at the top of his lungs for anyone to rescue him. Floating alone in the darkness, he contemplated how ironic it was that after all the death he had endured, all the violence he had witnessed, it was his old, but stoic, friend silence that would be the death of him.

"You bastards! Let me be! I've paid my dues!" He screamed, to whom though, he wasn't quite sure. "I refuse to die here," He almost sobbed, "I've done too much to deserve this…" Though he couldn't see his hands, he brought them up to cover his face, feeling the stubble of several days gone by without a shave. That pistol he had thrown away seemed rather enticing now.

"Thinking of giving up so ssssoon?" A voice called from deep within his cage of midnight. But soon the reality of total darkness, that Shephard had almost grown accustomed to, was shattered by a brilliant and dazzling explosion of light, beautiful white light. But the visions it brought weren't as peaceful.

The creatures of Black Mesa Research Facility, each one more horrible than the last, tore through his mind like they had torn through their victims. He was crouching in a hallway, clutching a wrench, fearful of the small, but deadly headcrabs that waited around the corner for him. They had been a constant danger, because if their jump connected with your cranium just right…

The mangled and mutated body of one of his former comrades lurched toward him, its upper half shrouded in the shadows. Adrian took aim with his Desert Eagle, the laser designating the exact point of penetration. As the zombie shuffled into the light, Adrian's aim fumbled. The long, spidery arms ending in sharp, blood covered claws, and the open wound in the middle of the chest, which seemed to hypnotize as it wriggled and flinched with hunger, hunger that could never quite be quenched. Or the vortigaunts, their brown flesh undulating as they brought their arms up to summon a deadly electrical shock. But one of the worst had been the alien shock troopers, with their cunning intelligence and advanced alien weaponry; they had hunted him like an animal.

Adrian shook his head again, screaming at the visions in his head. He found himself traveling back and forth between the abyss and Black Mesa, reliving his terrifying expedition. He watched himself slit the throat of a Black Operative, one of the assassins sent to silence both the scientists and the marines. He watched the blood run from the man's neck and how he quivered and eventually stopped moving. Adrian had done things in Black Mesa he wasn't proud of, all to survive. He could see himself punching in the disarming codes to the nuclear bomb, hoping to buy himself, and the rest of the Black Mesa staff, a little more time to escape. And he watched the hanger door slam closed on him, cutting off his one route of escape. He could see himself beating on the window, screaming for the others to take him with them. And yes, he could even see the pale face of that goddamned civie, straightening his tie in the reflection of the glass, smiling as though he had accomplished something, then walking off.

He was back in the darkness, clutching his stomach, as a wave of nausea set in. It was he, the pale faced government man, who was responsible for all this. Adrian saw him at the Santiago Marine base, and again all over Black Mesa, he was always there, leading him one step closer to that warehouse, that manmade hell. Was it his plan to have Shephard fight his way down there, to kill that creature, and stop the invasion?

Light exploded again, and Adrian was standing in that giant teleporter chamber, where he had last seen Freeman. His one chance to kill Freeman, his sole objective. The scientist stood with his back to Adrian, looking to his colleague above, working the controls.

"It's ready Freeman! You must go… now!" The other man shouted. Adrian reached for his sidearm, he would stop all this. He would stop the Aliens from coming through, he would save his comrades, and he would go home. But his hand fell against an empty holster, and Freeman began running for the portal. Jumping an incredible distance into the green and orange portal, he disappeared from sight. Adrian looked up and screamed in frustration, but something caught his eye. High above, framed in a glass observation window, was the same pale faced, blue suited government man. He had watched the situation unfold intently, and promptly disappeared. If he had lead Shephard to defeat the creatures that plagued the base, maybe he was doing the same for Freeman?

Blackness flooded his senses again, and Adrian was sure this time he would vomit. The exhaustion from reliving his experiences was taking its toll on him. But what had he learned? His body lurched in excruciating pain.

"Freeman? Savior?" The pain shot through his body again, causing him to scream. Something was feeding him the information in bits and peaces, each bit coming with more pain than the last. "He went to cut the invasion off at its source?" He wondered, was it successful? There was no more pain, no more information, and Adrian didn't know if the lack there of was good or bad.

"I guesssss only time ssshall tell." That snakelike voice rose again out of the darkness, but it wasn't so dark anymore. Adrian's vision took on a reddish hue, and as things came into focus, he felt a hard surface take hold of his feet, and gravity once again claim his body. He was sitting in the same uncomfortable seating of the Osprey, sitting across from that pale faced, _grinning_ bastard.

"Ssso, Corporal Shephard, we meet at last." Shephard began to speak. He wanted to know what was going on, who this man was, and what he had to do with all of this, but he was silenced when the man brought his hands up in an apologetic gesture. "Please, don't think I've been avoiding you, a great many matters require my attention in these… troubled times. I do hope you understand."

"Troubled," Shephard spat, "that's a big fucking understatement…" But the man continued, not wanting to be interrupted.

"But now I do require a further indulgence on your part…" He brought his briefcase to his lap and folded his hands on top of it. "I cannot close my report until every…" He seemed to be consciously choosing his words, "loose end has been tied up." Adrian didn't like the sound of this, he knew that lingo. 'Tied up' meant he'd be tied and gagged and dropped to the bottom of a river if he didn't act now. He rose to his feet, preparing to take charge of the situation.

The pale-faced government man raised his hand, his placid countenance never faltering. "I asked for your indulgence, Corporal, don't make me force it." Adrian's body suddenly felt two sizes two big, and he felt the exhaustion of the past two days fall on his like the ton of concrete would have. He couldn't sit still, yet his body was doing just that.

"It was you, you're responsible, aren't you?" His words slurred as he fought to stay conscious. Who was this man? Was he even human? Adrian tried to move his arms, but they lay inert, resistant to his nervous system's cry for action.

The enigma sitting across from him ignored his question. "The biggest embarrassment has been… Black Mesa Facility," He absent-mindedly looked at his watch, "But I think that has finally taken care of itssself." Adrian pondered, in his paralyzed state, what the man meant. He had defeated the alien overlord; everything should be manageable from there on out.

The Osprey interior was suddenly flooded with incredible white-hot light. The ear splitting sound of a train wreck scratching over a chalkboard saturated the air. Adrian so desperately wanted to lift his arms to cover his eyes and ears, but they were still stone solid, and not moving.

As the light faded, and the sound dissipated, Shephard opened his moist eyes, only to be greeted by another sick, sadistic grin from the devils advocate sitting across from him. Adrian searched his memory for something, anything that could account for that device being reactivated. Shephard had disarmed it himself, but this maniac must have reversed all that. The fury, the rage, built up inside his still body and his cheeks turned a dark shade of crimson. Crimson, the color he so desperately hoped would spill from the man's body as Adrian ripped it limb from limb. All the innocent people, civilian and comrade alike, were now gone. Had Tower, Wilkes and Jackson made it out in time, he wondered.

"Quite so…" The roaring of the Osprey's twin engines was replaced by the high-pitched shriek associated with traversing from one dimension to the next. The desert sunset disappeared, replaced by the alien world of Xen, its fractured, floating islands stealing Shephard's gaze. The blue suited figure picked up where he left off back on Earth. "But there is still the lingering matter of… witnesses. I admit I have a fascination with those who adapt and survive against all odds, they remind me a bit of myself."

Shephard felt revulsion at being compared to this murderer. Adrian had risked his life to save the people of Black Mesa from certain death; this man had only sat by and watched them die. But instead of touching on that subject, the man simply continued on.

"If for no other reason I have argued to… preserve you, for a time. While I believe a civil servant like yourself understands the importance of… discretion, my employers are not quite so trusting, and rather than continually subject you to the irresistible temptation of telling all, we have decided to convey you somewhere where you can do no possible harm, and where no possible harm can come to you." Adrian wanted to tell him to fuck off, that he hoped a vortigaunt would fry him and that a zombie would feed on his corpse. But the plane shuddered and the pilot's door flung open, revealing the same black abyss, a green portal flickering and waving in the middle. The blue suited man stood up, and checked his watch. He turned to leave, but left Shephard with a chilling parting comment.

"I'm sure you can imagine there are worse alternatives." The portal shuddered as the man disappeared into it. Shephard willed his body to move, but it only exhausted him further. His mind worked furiously against the onslaught of sleep, but in the end, the blackness won out once more.

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	3. Subsurface Tension

-Shephard's Story-

-Subsurface Tension-

"Fuck…this…SHIT!" Tower screamed, letting loose the fury of the M-249 SAW. The bullets ricocheted off the concrete walls and plunged through wooden crates, but many also found their mark. The short alien creatures, moving in wave after wave, assaulted the three marines. Their short arms sported long claws; ready to rip the men apart and gladly devour the remains. But the real danger was the spikes they expelled from their head. Though not poisonous, they could kill you if they hit the correct spot; an artery, the heart, or the face. The barrage of lead slowed the alien's advance to a crawl, but it wouldn't hold them for long.

"Jesus man, they just keep coming!" Wilkes yelled, taking aim and letting off a few well-placed shots from his M4.

"Tower! Watch your fire! We don't have much ammo left!" Jackson screamed. The three had been running around the underground base for hours. This nightmare didn't seem to have an end in sight, but they weren't about to give up now.

"Jackson, we need an exit." Tower said, slowing his fire to short bursts. He had the SAW shouldered like a rifle but the accuracy left something to be desired. The three were stuck in a long corridor leading out of the sector D propulsion lab. They came to a T-intersection and Jackson yelled for them to go right. While taking a break in the lab, Jackson had looked up the schematics for the lower levels of the base, hoping to find an exit to the surface. Currently they were on their way to a transit station, they could only hope it was still viable.

"This way! There's a blast door we can close behind us!" The door was in sight a few meters down the hall, but the creatures must have sensed their prey's impending escape, and redoubled their efforts. They rushed the marines; maws open wide, spikes spewing out in all directions.

"Oh what the hell." Tower muttered and switched back to full-auto. The machine gun roared once more and drowned out all other sounds. Yellow puss covered the walls as more of the aliens fell, their carcasses overturned and pushed aside by their more determined brethren. The light of the open door way grew brighter as they neared it and Jackson dove inside, followed by Wilkes, and Tower soon after.

"Lay down some cover while I bring it down!" Wilkes nodded as he and Tower unloaded into the fray. Jackson ripped open the console next to the door and cut the three wires, red, green, and black, in half. "Fuck, fuck, Red and black or red and green?" One combination would close the heavy steel door; the other would lock in place.

"Make a fucking decision man! Or we're all fucked!" Wilkes' rifle clicked dry and he ejected the spent clip and slapped another one in. Tower dropped his empty machine gun and reached into his vest, pulling a grenade out.

"Fire in the hole!" he pulled the pin and waited several seconds before lobbing it. The explosive sailed into the group and burst, shaking the corridor. It had bought Jackson several more seconds. Tower quickly brought his rifle, slung against his back, up to aim. He didn't have many clips left; he had to pick his shots.

Hands shaking and sweaty, Jackson fumbled for the red and black wires. "Oh god, I'll swear off the booze, just please…" The wires touched and sparked. The door stood still for a moment and Jackson began to panic, thinking he had used the wrong combination. But after a few seconds the door began to fall, slowly, but steadily. Wilkes and Tower got out from under it but kept their fire tight. The door was a foot from the ground when the creatures reached it and the marines finally felt home free.

"Ah Fuck!" Tower screamed, dropping to the floor, clutching his thigh. In it was stuck one of the needle projectiles, not very deep, but deep enough to hurt. Wilkes knelt to help Tower but he pulled the needle out himself. "Damnit, they hurt!"

"Yeah no shit Sherlock," Wilkes said opening his med pack and grabbing the bandages and gauss. The pounding on the door began in earnest, and the marines could imagine a whole army of those things behind the door, clawing at each other to get in.

"It'll hold, don't worry." Jackson said, taking his helmet off and wiping sweat from his brow.

The gash in Tower's thigh wasn't too ugly, but Wilkes poured some hydrogen peroxide in it, just to be sure. The wound fizzed white and Tower grunted. Wrapping it in a bandage, the medic offered his a hand up. It didn't hurt much to walk, just a dull pain.

"Lucky bastard, if it were any higher you might have bit the big one." Wilkes joked. But it hit the other two harder than he anticipated. Would they get out of here? That question had been on their minds the entire time but no one had voiced it. What would the military tell their family if they didn't get out, certainly not that they had been nuked along with aliens from beyond the void.

Jackson pulled a stapled pile of papers from his vest and plastered it against the wall. "Wilkes, gimme your pen." He took it and traced their route to hopefully get out of this hellhole. "The transit station just around his corner here," he said pointing down the hall where the corridor veered right. "Now _assuming_ there's still a car left, and _assuming_ the tracks still have power, we can take it to the surface."

Tower slung his M16A2 behind his back and checked his pistol, this didn't sound promising. "That's a lot of assuming Jackson."

The engineer fumbled with the map, ignoring Tower's comment. "Then it'll take us to the sector Q dormitories, there's supposed to be a parking garage there, we could hotwire a car and get the flying fuck out of there."

"Yeah that's not if the fucking fucks above our heads don't nuke us before hand!" Wilkes yelled, he hadn't lost his cool much since the crash, but Tower began to worry that the situation was becoming too much for everyone. Even Jackson, normally cool and composed, seemed to be showing signs of losing it.

"Don't you think I fucking thought about that?" Jackson snapped. "But what did Jameson say, we have a twenty four hour window of escape. So that means we still got twelve left. I'm not going to die down here!" His fist slammed against the wall with a thud.

Tower's brow furrowed, the team didn't need this, and they'd fall apart soon if they kept the bickering up. He brought his hand to Jackson's shoulder. "Neither do I, man. So lets keep this up, we'll get to the surface and get out of here. Hey, I'll buy the beers. Scratch that, I'll buy the whole damn bar!" Jackson sighed and turned to Wilkes, shrugging in apology. Wilkes nodded in return.

Pulling out his cigarettes, Jackson lit one and offered it to Tower, who took a puff and offered it to Wilkes. The medic hesitated, but reached out and grabbed it. "To hell with it, everything else is out to get me. This seems rather harmless by comparison."

"That's the spirit, boy!" Jackson slapped him on the back, causing the medic to cough the smoke back up. Tower could still hear the scraping behind them, and while he knew they were safe behind the door, he also knew the psychological danger of being so close to something so deadly wasn't good at all.

"Come on, guys, lets get out of here."

X X X

The long corridor ended in a waiting area that most closely resembled a New York subway station. Benches, devoid of any souls, and turn styles, growing dusty without use, stood silently, obviously spared the carnage of the rest of the facility.

"The powers that be must be happy with us." Jackson mumbled. Tower agreed and jumped over the turn style and making a run through the rest of the waiting area. Newspapers titled "Mesa Times" blew in a breeze that Tower was searching for the source of. And there, sitting pristinely was an unused transport tram, the cabin lights like a beacon in the night to the battle weary marines. Jackson whooped and Wilkes sighed with relief.

"Lady luck's smillin' on us!" Tower nearly screamed as he ran for the transport, an irrational fear deep in the back of his mind warning him that his escape could leave without him at any moment. He jumped inside the open door, and once all three were situated and relaxing in the comfy seats, the question of how to get the trolley moving became a problem.

"You're the engineering genius, Jackson. This is what they pay you the big bucks for." Tower grinned, bringing a black boot to rest on the seat in front of him and reclining his head in his hands.

"Yeah," Jackson huffed, "Big bucks, sure. They better have some big bucks for me when we get out of this! Some hefty hush money would be nice too." He said thumbing in the destination code on a keypad near the front of the vehicle.

The car shuddered and the door slid shut. As they began to move along the track, a distinctly feminine voice spoke to them over the intercom in a recorded message.

"_Good afternoon, this train is inbound from Sector D Propulsion Laboratories to Sector Q Dormitories. Please take your seats; estimated time of arrival is…"_ the animated voice hesitated, programming the time, _"1:17pm local time."_ Jackson ignored the rest of the message and took a seat across from Tower.

Tower shot Jackson a glare. "Hush money? You mean you're really going to keep the government's secret? The civilian executions, all for a little money?" Wilkes pulled his helmet over his head and closed his eyes, not wanting to enter into any argument.

Jackson took another drag of his cigarette. "Nah, the brass get what they deserve. We'll tell everyone when we get out, _if_ we get out."

"Yeah, but who would believe us?" Wilkes muffled voice came from under his helmet.

"Because, my dear friend. I have this." Tower smiled slyly as he reached into his vest and pulled out a small CD jewel case. On it was scribbled in black sharpie "BMRF: C + Lambda Complex Security feed: Zero Hour – 20 Hour". It was the security video of the sector C test lab, and lambda complex, the sight of the contamination and subsequent Black Ops clean up. It would vindicate the marines and bring to light the horrors of Black Mesa.

Jackson leaned forward and slapped Tower's shoulder as Wilkes took his helmet off to see what it was. "You smart bastard! You were going to keep this from us?"

Tower slipped the case back in his vest and patted it. "I was going to tell you once we were out, sort of a celebratory thing."

Wilkes looked out the window at the rocky cave in which the track continued to travel. He couldn't see it, but it felt like they were steadily moving upwards, and that feeling filled him with hope. "Where did you get it?" he asked.

Tower's look of enthusiasm changed to one of one of anguish. "Major Jameson…" The others immediately knew where the major had given him the disk…

X X X

"We've missed the extraction by now…" Wilkes quietly murmured, he knew no one wanted to hear it, but they had missed the four-hour window to make it to one of the evac sites.

"No freaking way would they leave us here to die." Jackson spat. Deep in the bowels of the Black Mesa Research facility the small three-man team had gotten themselves horribly lost. And they were sure now that they had been left behind, even though some of them didn't want to admit it outright.

Walking through one of the storage garages, the team was trying to reorient itself. "If I could just find an information terminal, I could get a schematic of the facility. We could find an evac site in no time flat."

Tower didn't want to destroy Jackson's optimism, but he agreed with Wilkes, they needed to face facts and start making plans not just to escape, but also to survive. "Jackson, we need to start thinking about alternative routes out of the facility, because I don't think the cavalry is coming anytime soon." The three ducked under a lower hanging blast door and entered what looked like a service area for trucks and other transport vehicles, none of which seemed useful. Tower brought his hand up in the air, signaling them to stop, this looked like a good place to take a quick break. They hadn't seen much action for the last hour.

"Hey buddy, remember I outrank you." Jackson growled, it looked like the stress was getting to him. Tower pulled his canteen out and took a sip, as did Wilkes. Jackson fumed, but relented, he knew they wouldn't get far if they didn't rest. "Jesus man, I did not sign up for this." He said, taking out a small cylinder out of his vest and uncorking it. The aroma of whiskey permeated the air as he lifted the container to his mouth. A small swallow later he offered it to Tower.

"Nah, gave the hard stuff up. I'm surprised you were able to smuggle that shit in, though." Tower eyed the wily marine. Jackson laughed and brought the can up for another swig.

"The perks of being sarge, man." He offered some to Wilkes who took a small sip and immediately began to cough up the red-hot liquid.

"Shit that tastes like battery acid!" Tower and Jackson both shared a grin. At least there was some amusement down here in Hell.

"Now don't you be disrespectin' my daddy's recipe, boy." Jackson said, patting Wilkes on the back. Tower took out a small chocolate bar from his Meal-ready-to-eat and munched on it.

"Okay, that's enough now, I need you on top of your stuff, guys." Jackson corked the flask and slipped it back in his vest and mock saluted his tall, black comrade.

"Yes, sir."

The three took a seat on the back of a pick up parked in one of the repair bays and ate a small portion of their rations in complete silence. Tower was glad that the team was in generally good spirits, considering all they had seen in the past few hours alone. The memories alone were going to be enough to give him nightmares.

The repair garage wasn't so big, only large enough to hold two vehicles at a time, with a large workbench at the back, and stairs leading out of the room on the right. Jackson, Wilkes and Tower in tow, had lead them from the crash site down into the administrative buildings, hoping that they could access one of the computers there and find a way to one of the evac sites. To their utter dismay, the entire center was more a war zone than anything else. Cubicles overturned, bodies strewn out in various stages of decay and consumption.

Consumption.

The word echoed in his mind and raised the hair on the back of his neck. That thing in the tunnel, that slouched and shuffled, had human remains in its two clawed hands. It wore the same white lab coat of the civilians who worked the complex, but it was anything but human. Once it had registered the marines' presence in that dimly lit tunnel, it had dropped the meat in its hands, no longer holding its interest. It raised its bulbous yellow head and began to shuffle towards the three. In a panic the marines opened fire and filled their target with lead. But that wasn't the last of the zombies they would see.

The complex was crawling with them. They hid in closets, behind doors, all in complete silence. It had taken them all four hours to cover the distance from the administrative building to the sublevels and storage units, mainly because they had to be careful of where they walked. A careless door left unchecked could yield disastrous consequences for anyone caught unawares.

Wilkes broke Tower's silent reverie. "So… anyone have any clue what these things are?"

Jackson dropped his uneaten food back in the bag and jumped off the truck bed. "Come on, Michael. I just ate; I really don't want to have this conversation. Besides I thought you were the one that said they were government mutant super soldiers." Tower agreed, he couldn't see any other explanation other than a government fuck up.

"Well I've been thinking, the different organisms we've encountered," He talked about those things like they were goddamn test tube subjects, Tower thought, not the ravenous killing machines they'd been fighting, "are so diverse, but they're in no way humanoid. They're on a completely different evolutionary line than us. And did you see the way they were able to disappear in that ball of light?"

"What are you getting at, boy?" Jackson _really_ didn't want to have this conversation.

"I'm thinking they're not from Earth." Tower rolled his eyes, this was crazy. Space aliens? Please, he thought, he'd left those in his closet, along with the boogeyman, years ago. But then again, the brass had kept this place so secret for so long, who knows what they were doing down here.

Jackson, on the other hand, wasn't about to hear the rest. "Christ Wilkes, you've really gone off the deep end. You read too many of those tabloids." He threw up his arms and turned to the door, Tower and Wilkes followed suit.

Wilkes wasn't about to give up. "Seriously though, there were rumors about a place like this, where they were doing research on teleportation. Maybe one of their experiments went wrong."

"Well what ever the hell they are, they're standing in the way of me and an ice cold beer…" Jackson was able to open the door when it burst open on them, knocking him down. Tower instinctively brought his rifle up to fire.

"Hold your fire!" Another marine, his white urban camo fatigues dirty with blood and sweat, ducked behind the doorframe, his MP5 submachine gun at the ready. "Hold your fire, damnit!" Tower's shoulders came unknotted and he lowered his rifle.

"You with Delta?" The man asked, coming out from the doorway, revealing a large bandage over his left bicep. He was over six foot tall with a sweaty and shining baldhead. He looked older, probably a sergeant or a corporal. The man reached down to pull Jackson up, apologizing for knocking him over.

Tower told him they were all that was left of Delta.

"Us and Corporal Shephard." Wilkes added. Tower had almost forgotten about their friend, and he wondered if Shephard was really alive, or if he had been the lunch of some hungry monster.

The gruff man shook some of the dirt off his vest and looked down the hallway he'd just come from. "I'm Major Jameson, I dropped in with Alpha. We had to secure the administrative complex. You had to come that way to get here, didn't you?" Tower and Wilkes nodded, while Jackson rubbed the back of his head, mumbling something about his utter hatred for superior officers.

"Well then you saw what was left of my unit." The major would be joining them now. He pointed down the hallway he had just come from. "We can't go back this way, it's blocked. This door was locked, which was why I had to break it down." Jackson just huffed.

"Well we can't go back the way we came, it just leads back to the administrative complex, that and some service elevators, but we don't have the security key cards to operate them." Wilkes was right, but Tower wondered where the elevators would lead, but they didn't have many options now.

The major reached into his vest and pulled out a small, credit card-sized piece of clear plastic. He waved in front of the troops and whistled. "Well, looks like it's our lucky day, I snatched this off the body of a dead security guard." The major's smile soon left though; when Wilkes asked him when the last time was that he had spoken to Marine Command. "Last radio contact I had with command was that they were pulling out, anyone left down here is on their own, that's you and me, boys." So it was true, they were really going to have to go it alone, no reinforcements. "We'll take the elevators down to the propulsion labs, what's left of Gamma squad is down there, fortifying positions until we can get ourselves a viable exit strategy." Tower nodded, it was as good a plan as any.

The elevator ride down to sector D propulsion labs was long and rocky, as though they were riding the elevator to hell, to pay for all their sins. Tower wasn't going to die without some answers, though, and now he had the man to ask. "Major Jameson, sir. I need to know, what was the real mission objective?" The major shifted his weight onto the other foot, but didn't look at Tower.

"Your mission was to sweep the facility of hostiles, and collect mission sensitive personnel for detainment and questioning. Most important of the Black Mesa personnel, though, was a subject named Gordon Freeman. We have reason to believe he had direct involvement in this incident."

"You mean he's to blame for all this?" Tower couldn't believe this was all the work of one man.

"_Yes_, Private, he is. He stole a very expensive Government Issue hazardous environment suit, similar in function to your PCV, and is now on the loose. It was your mission to find and detain him, but that's all moot now, he's escaped, and if he hasn't, he stuck down in the lowest levels of Black Mesa and will never reach the surface before being either eaten or destroyed in the nu…" The major stopped himself short, but the marines knew what he was going to say.

Jackson was the one to finish the sentence. "Nuclear blast… is that right, major?" The major still wouldn't look at the marines. "Do we even have enough time to get out?"

The major was quiet for a few seconds, and Jackson was about to ask him again when he turned to face the three marines. "We have a twenty four hour window to get one hundred miles away from this facility before Black Operations arm the bomb for detonation…" Now it was Tower's turn to speak up.

"Black operations? Who invited those assassins?" Black Operations were the government's silent but deadly clean up crew, known for their viciousness and cunning. They could disappear into the shadows and slit your throat before you knew you were in trouble. In short, they were the most hated Special Forces at the United States Government's disposal.

"They wont just nuke the facility. They'll kill anyone associated with it. That means the civies we were sent here to protect."

"Sergeant Jackson, my first priority is to secure any of my marines left alive and plan an exit strategy. Anyone or anything else strictly comes secondary." He was going to let the scientists die, and there was nothing the three could do to help them.

The argument was silenced as the lift shuddered and came to a stop, the large gray doors sliding open to reveal a loading bay filled with decommissioned missiles, at least Tower hoped they were decommissioned. The major shouldered his submachine gun and waved the others forward. "Lets move it, Gamma's last transmission had them located in a testing facility. Your PCV radio is useless down here, too much interference." The soldiers made their way among the rockets and into the next batch of rooms, each stranger than the last. Machines, their use completely lost on the grunts, lined the walls in glass cases, numbers and clip boards of information stacked neatly next to them.

"Sweet Jesus, take me home lord!" Jackson cried as he ran for a bank of computers. His fingers flew over the keyboard as the other three jogged over to see what he was doing.

"Sergeant, we need to hook up with gamma, we don't the luxury of surfing the web." The major was beginning to get on Tower's nerves. He seemed to be hiding something, but what, he was unclear about.

"Sir, I'm downloading and printing the schematics for the sublevels, with these, we can find a way to the surface." The major folded his arms over his chest, signaling his approval. Jackson continued to look through file after file, until he came across what he was looking for. The printer whined to life and startled the jumpy team, as it began to spit out page after page, black lines with little bits of information pointing to ventilation shafts, offices, test chambers and… "Yes! There's a transport station at the end of this junction." The engineer pointed to the map of sector D, which was in essence a giant T with several smaller sections branching off. Jackson had his finger pointed to the top left of the picture, where a small tunnel ran off the page, the words "tram track" scribbled inside. "It rides this line," he said tracing the tunnel onto another page. "And it makes a stop here, Sector Q Dormitories and Garages. There's gotta be some cars we can hotwire and use to get out of here." Tower was relieved to finally have a way out of here, and Wilkes looked like he would break down in tears.

Jameson grabbed the map from Jackson and placed his finger towards the intersection of the T. "Gamma is hold up here. They're using the intersection to bottle the creatures into a narrower area, a turkey shoot. Lets hope they've secured the area, and that your tram station hasn't been compromised." He handed the map back to Jackson who stapled it and slide it inside his vest. "Okay men, lets get moving. Gamma will happy to see us."

At least Gamma would have been happy. If their remains weren't strewn all over the blood-soaked corridor that had served as their fortified position. Boxes and crates served as a cover and weapons and ammo caches littered the ground, as well as spent ammo casings. Here and there the marines could identify uniforms and appendages as belonging to one of their own, but along with the dead marines, the ground was piled knee-high in some places by those sickeningly smelling zombie-like creatures.

Major Jameson knelt down in front of a group of bodies, checking to make sure everyone was dead, but he already knew they were. "How did they get overrun, they were well fortified, why did they come out front behind their cover?"

The lights began to flicker and Wilkes tapped his vest, an attached flashlight glowing to life. "Sir, I don't think they came out from behind their cover, I think they were under cover. They're facing the wrong way, the zombies attacked from behind." It made sense, the corridor that the heavy machine guns were facing must have been the threat, and the creatures must have taken Gamma by surprise when they came from behind.

"Yeah, well where did they come from then, Wilkes." Jackson sounded a bit nervous. He unholstered his Desert Eagle and flicked the laser designator on, a red dot appeared on the wall next to him. Tower wondered the same thing; they hadn't seen any sign of hostiles on their way to Gamma's position.

Wilkes trained his flashlight back down the way they came. "I don't know, a door we didn't see, or maybe…" His flashlight traced a line up the walls and across the ceiling. "Whoa, didn't see that." The marines trained their weapons on a three-foot wide gap in the ceiling, yellow puss pooling around the edges. "Guess we found their entrance."

The pile of ammo boxes and weapons next to Jameson crackled and the burly major whipped his gun frantically around, his breathing rapid. The crackling continued until the pile of weapons began to speak.

"_Hello? This Corporal Adrian Shephard, can anybody read me?"_ The major lowered his weapon and threw the junk covering the radio aside. Tower, Wilkes, and Jackson all looked at each other with equal looks of surprise. They had almost begun to assume that Shephard was KIA.

"That slick bastard made it, I knew I shouldn't have doubted him." Tower grinned ear to ear. But an explosion broke their moment of solace somewhere in the facility, somewhere close. Tower stared down the hallway to the metal door they had just entered through. It was silent at first, but soon screeching noises, those only made those electric bastards, broke the silence. The pounding on the door began, but it already looked like it wouldn't hold. Jackson tapped Tower on the shoulder.

"You pack up, grab as much ammo as you can, I don't want to be around for the welcoming party." With that, Jackson pushed the major aside, and began filling in Adrian on their plan. Wilkes ejected the near empty clip in his M4 and grabbed another one from the floor.

"You ready for this?" But Tower had his back him, hunkered over a green equipment box.

"You bet I am." Tower turned towards the door, swinging the deadly M-249 SAW. The machine gun would spit out several hundred rounds of 5.56mm a minute. A long belt of ammunition hung from his vest. It was payback time for Private First Class George C. Tower.

Wilkes ducked out of the aim of the machine gun. "Jesus Rambo, point it at them!" Wilkes took up position behind a crate and took aim on the door, which was already bending under the pressure of the creatures' powerful limbs. Major Jameson discarded his submachine gun and took hold of an M16, they would need to keep their fire tight and concentrated on the door if they wanted to survive this.

"Short controlled bursts, pick your shots. Tower, lay down covering fire." The door exploded in a green electrical flash and the first of the creatures romped into the corridor. Tower opened fire and cut it down, spewing yellow blood across the faces of the next two that scrambled through the door. Tower's finger never strayed from the trigger as he pumped out round after round into the fray until finally his belt ran dry.

"I need to reload!" Wilkes was about to pull a grenade out when he heard Jackson screaming in his ear to lay tight. The engineer had a small green package in his hand, and a red remote control in the other. He lobbed the green package at the door and ran toward the crates.

"Take cover!" Tower, Wilkes and Jameson all held their fire and dove behind the boxes. Tower landed next to Jackson, tripping over a box of ammo and spilling its contents onto the hard concrete floor.

"What the hell is your plan?" He screamed into the engineer's ear. Jackson smiled and held up the remote. Oh shit, Tower knew what it was now, a satchel charge. That would buy them some time.

"Sayonara Mother fuckers!" Jackson pressed the glowing red button and the corridor shook with a deafening groan. The lights flickered on and off several times, and finally died. Yellow chunks of meat flew over their heads and splattered against the walls, Jackson sure knew his explosives. "Come on, that wont hold them off for long." Jackson got up and waved them down the hallway. As they rounded the corner to the right, Tower saw the creatures flood out the door, neither deterred nor terrified by the blast. Jameson was rounding the corner when he was stopped short by an electrical discharge by one of the creatures. He fell face first into the floor, the back of his vest a charred crater.

"Damnit!" Tower grabbed the major and drug his body around the corner. He was coughing up blood and moaning incoherently. They came to the metal door and Jackson frantically punched in codes on an adjacent keypad, trying to get it to open. Wilkes pulled a morphine needle from his medical bag and was about to stick the major, but Jameson stayed his hand and pulled Tower closer, his voice nothing but a whisper.

"No, its okay, just…just go." Jackson cursed under his breath as the keypad beeped negative. His fingers flew across the pad typing in four digit numbers almost at random. Tower sat the major up against the wall and took off his bandana, exposing his baldhead, and gave it to the major to cough into. "You… you gotta get this," He said pulling a disk from his vest and stuffing it inside Tower's. "to the surface. The mission objectives weren't to detain the scientists, they were to kill them. The government didn't want them talking." Tower couldn't believe what he was hearing; they were brought in to be the killing squads? Had his comrades really gone along with it? Jameson coughed again, and Tower could hear the creatures getting closer. "It's got a security feed that'll expose what the government was doing here. You have to…" He began coughing again, but stopped himself short. "You have to get this to someone, anyone, who can spread the word."

"Alright, lets move." Jackson had opened the door and he and Wilkes had barreled inside. The creatures finally rounded the corner and were catching up with them fast. Jameson grabbed his rifle and pushed Tower to the door.

"You seal that thing behind you! Get to the surface!" Tower didn't want to leave the major, but Jameson didn't look like he wanted to go. Tower ran through the door and brought the machine gun up and fired a quick stream of lead at the lead monsters.

"Jackson, close and seal the door!" His friend looked confused; he hadn't heard the major tell Tower to leave him.

"What about the major?" Tower ignored him and hit the keypad by the door, sliding it shut.

"Seal it, soldier!" Jackson didn't think, he pulled his blow torn from its pouch attached to his thigh. Pulling his Zippo lighter from his vest pocket, he lit it and looked to Wilkes.

"Gas me up, boy." Gunfire erupted from the other side of the door, and the three knew what was going on. Wilkes released the gas valves on the cylinder attached to Jackson's pack. The gas hissed and the end of the blow torch lit up white-hot. Jackson began sealing the edges, hopefully making the door impenetrable. As the gunfire finally died, the pounding at the door began. "You can pound all you want! You're not getting in here." The door securely shut, the team took stock of what they had.

Wilkes and Tower reloaded, while Jackson took out his map and checked their position. They were still a couple of corridors from the tram station.

Weapons at the ready, Jackson simply pointed down the hall.

X X X

"You think they actually went through with it?" It was obvious to Wilkes now that the tram was moving towards the surface. The rock wall of the cave swept by them faster as they made their way to the Sector Q dormitories, and hopefully to an escape.

Jackson, who had been dozing for the last twenty minutes, fought free of the hold sleep had on him. He rubbed his eyes and took his canteen out, hoping to wash the taste of dry drool from his mouth. "What did you say, kid?"

"You think the rest of the unit really did those things Tower said." He looked over to his left, and saw that Tower was still sound asleep. "That they really… killed all those innocent people?"

Jackson blinked several times, his eyes adjusting to the light. "I can't say for sure. I do know one thing, if they didn't do it, them Black Ops sure as _hell_ did. I had a friend in boot," referring to his stint in basic training, "that told me his old man served in the Black Ops. Told me stories that would make even you medic types turn green."

Wilkes had a high tolerance for blood and gore, and the thought of something that could turn his stomach gave him the shivers. Jameson had told them that Black Ops had been sent in to mop up, but they had yet to see any. Wilkes had joined the Marine Corp to save lives, not take them. The idea of being ordered to kill civilians by the dozen made his head light. But at least they had something they could use to make sure those that did die, wouldn't die in vain. "You think anyone will take us seriously?"

"Oh I don't know. Maybe they'll hail us as heroes, spreading the gospel of the truth or," he grinned. "Maybe they'll just lock us up in the nearest looney bin."

Wilkes laughed for what he realized was the first time since the crash, which seemed like it had happened an eternity or more ago. "Yeah, man. At least that sounds more inviting than another trip through here."

Jackson pulled out the flask of whiskey and lifted it to his mouth. "No shit."

Overhead the feminine voice of the Black Mesa announcer notified them they would be arriving at the Sector Q Dormitories momentarily and that they should collect all their belongs, exiting in an orderly manner. Jackson nudged Tower with his boot; the black private stirred and yawned.

"How long have I been out?" He asked, collecting his items. Wilkes got up and looked out the front of the tram, seeing light in the distance he let out a sigh. Sunlight had never been more inviting.

"Not long, we're almost to the surface and then," he smacked his hands together, "home free my boy!" Tower was grateful to hear that they would soon see the sun shine, and live to see another day. "I'm counting on those beers you said you'd buy." Tower simply smiled and got up from his seat.

The tram came to a painfully slow stop in front of a building built into the side of a cave. Overhead the sun shone through a natural skylight made of rock. They were still underground, but the surface was close.

"Hey Jackson, I thought you said this would take us to the surface." Wilkes was beginning to grow impatient; he wanted to get out now.

"Hmph, I told you, we need to make our way through the dormitories, they lead to a parking garage. From there, it's a straight shot to the main road out of here." Jackson walked up to the front door, an imposing steel slab with a contamination sticker plastered on the front.

"It's compromised." Tower didn't like the look of that sticker.

"It's our only way out." Wilkes was right, there was no way to go but back down, this was the end of the line.

Jackson tapped the keypad on the side, but there wasn't any power, someone had locked it. "The door wont budge, I'm gonna have to cut it. Gas me up." Tower wasn't sure what was on the other side of those doors but they would find out soon enough. The torch burned with the fire of a sun and the steel melted under the extreme heat. Once the entire frame of the door had been cut Jackson brought his boot up and kicked with all his might. The door fell with a thick thud and as the dust cleared Jackson strained to see if there was any of that "contamination" lurking inside.

What he couldn't possibly have anticipated was that there would one angry scientist, an ancient .38 special revolver in his sweaty grip, ready to blow away any intruders. The two stood in silence for a moment before Jackson realized the man had the gun pointed at him.

"Oh shit!" Jackson reached for his side arm but the lab coat clad man had the drop on him and was the first to fire. The shot sounded like a canon in the silence that had preceded it. Jackson was clotheslined by the blast, his helmet smacking on the concrete floor. The man kept firing but in his frantic state his aim was terribly erratic, not only missing the other two marines, but also completely missing the door period. Wilkes pulled Jackson outside and checked his vitals. The .38 caliber was a doozy, but the PCV had absorbed the bullet and most of the shock. Jackson was knocked out, but still breathing, Wilkes looked to Tower, standing on the other side of the doorframe and told him Jackson would be okay.

Tower turned his attention to the clicking sound just inside the next room. The scientist stood still, his two clammy hands wrapped around the weapon, his finger still clicking the trigger even though it was empty. The man looked to be in his late forties, salt and pepper hair with a goatee that hadn't been groomed in awhile. His breathing was erratic and his eyes stayed fixated on where Jackson once stood.

Tower, seeing that the man was no longer a threat, gingerly walked into the room and placed his hand on the barrel of gun. "Hey buddy, calm down, it's okay, we're the good guys." The scientist snapped out of his trance like state and locked eyes with Tower, those eyes immediately widening with fear.

He shook off the grip Tower had on his arm and let the gun clatter to the ground. "You! You! You're one of them! They said on the radio that you had come to rescue us, but," The old man was slouched up against a wall, his hands fidgeting with his unruly goatee. "b…but you started shooting! But not…not solely at the Xenians…you…you." Tower took a small step forward, this guy had obviously went through hell, his lab coat was stained in several different colors and the smell coming off of him was rather pungent. But he had said something about Xenians. What were those? Could it be the name the eggheads had given to the monsters? Eyeing Tower, he began screaming. "Murderer! You killed them all…" He slunk to the ground. "They were…my friends…"

Tower came to his side and tried to comfort him. "Look we're not with those people, we didn't come here to kill you, me and my friends came to rescue you. Come on, man, snap out of it." But the man was content to just sit and stare at the opposite wall. Tower was pondering smacking the man back into reality when Wilkes called him over to help bring Jackson inside.

The lobby of the dormitory was sparsely decorated. A large picture of what Tower was sure was the desert topside dominated one wall, while a small reception desk and a few flyers decorated the other. Wilkes and Tower hefted Jackson's limp frame onto a small couch near the door.

"He really needs to lose some weight." Wilkes grunted, shifting the old engineer into place. Tower looked over at the scientist, his gaze no longer on the wall behind them, but focused on the men themselves. Wilkes crouched down and took a pen light out of his bag.

"Okay sir, you're alright now, just relax." The man silently complied and let Wilkes check his pupil dilation and his heart rate. "Okay it looks like you suffered from a bout of shock." He shoved the pen light back in his vest and offered the man a hand up. "But it looks like you'll live."

From behind them Jackson growled like a rabid dog. "Not if I've got anything to do with it!" He had gotten up from his reclined position and was running across the room, intent on beating the life out of the terrified old man. Tower stepped in and took hold of Jackson, who beat on Tower's chest, trying to get free. "The fucker shot me!" he pointed at the scientist accusingly.

Tower shoved him back and held up his hand, gesturing him to stay away. "Look, he didn't know. You're not dead, are you?" Jackson touched the area on his PCV where he had been shot, feeling only a dull indentation. Tower couldn't afford for Jackson to go ape shit this close to escaping.

"Yeah well, he sure as hell had planned on killing me!" Jackson's eyes were burning red and he was seeing blood. Finally the scientist decided to speak up.

"I… I'm so sorry. I had no idea you had no intention of hurting me. It's just with everything that has happened, I couldn't risk letting anyone in…" he straightened up and the look of the weary old man was replaced a confident scholar. "So I locked the door and gathered as many supplies as I could to hold out against the contamination." Jackson growled, but the anger that had consumed began to die a little.

"Excuse me Dr…?" Wilkes had assumed the man to be a doctor of some sort.

"Doctor Walter Bennett, I was a doctor of Xenobiology before the attack. And the three of you are?" They all told him their names. "Hmm, well very good. I see you aren't hardened killing machines like the rest of your comrade's in arms." Tower winced, he was afraid he would hear this, but he wasn't so sure he could take the truth.

"Did men dressed in our uniforms do the killing… or where they dressed in black?" The doctor looked to Wilkes, the only one brave enough to actually ask the question.

"Actually both. Wouldn't you know?" Wilkes shook his head. Walter was surprised that they could be out of the loop so long. "Yes, marines rounded up my colleagues by the dozen as we greeted them like heroes. They shot most, others they fed to the creatures. The ones dressed in form fitting black took care of anyone who had avoided early detention."

There, Tower knew the truth. That most of the 501st were murderous traitors to the corp. His fists clenched and unclenched in frustration, at the utter disregard for the code. Duty, Honor, Country. But at least they could save one soul, maybe it would help him sleep at night. "Alright, doc, then I guess you're coming with us." The doctor looked puzzled.

"Going with you where?" Tower explained to him that they were going to head down to the garage and steal a car. The doctor frowned and turned his face to the ground. The then told Tower how by locking the front door he had sealed the door to the garage as well, as a fail-safe.

"Don't worry, we'll just cut it with Jackson's torch." Wilkes gestured to the man leaning against the doorframe, a scowl painted across his face and a cigarette between his lips.

X X X

"This'll only take a minute." The men looked away while Jackson lit the torch with his cigarette and went to work on the door. After several minutes of burning the same length of frame he knew it would be longer than a minute. "Shit this sucker is thick, might be a little longer." As if one cue the dormitories rumbled in anticipation of a portal storm, which would bring with it more creatures.

Tower turned and pointed his weapon at the door to the previous room. "You've got three."

"Yeah, yeah." Jackson turned the heat up on his torch and went back to melting. The doctor, unarmed and scared out of his mind, cowered in the corner, whimpering at the helplessness of the situation. The rumbling soon stopped, and was replaced by the thumping of feet that had not tread this planet's soil before. When they did come bursting in, the aliens would only be a few feet away, not much room for maneuvering.

"Got it!" Jackson screamed as he kicked the heavy door down. The garage on the other side was carved out of the face of the mesa; several white jeeps were parked on the far side of the lot. The other two marines and the doctor followed Jackson's lead and burst out of the door and into the sun. The warmth felt amazing against Tower's cold skin, but he had little time to enjoy it before the wooden door burst open and the, what had the doctor called them, Xenians, came bursting through, ready to fry the escapees.

Dropping to one knee, Tower fired three quick shots in succession, all but one hit their mark and the beast fell dead. But like everyone other time, another one took its place, then another, and another. Soon Tower and Wilkes couldn't keep up with the creatures desperately clawing at each other to make it outside.

"Here, try this!" Jackson came up behind Tower and threw his pack towards the door. Tower wasn't sure what he was doing, and he couldn't waste precious time trying to find out. Taking down another creature, his gun clicked dry. Jackson cursed something over the roar of the firefight and pushed Tower aside. "Christ do I have to do everything myself?" He pulled his Desert Eagle from his holster and took aim. The red dot found it's mark on the pack's attached cylinder and Tower understood. One well placed shot and the tank exploded, creating a cave-in and blocking the creatures from coming outside.

Slowing his breathing, Tower found enough air to finally speak. "Next time, _warn_ me!" A cheesy grin plastered across his face, Jackson holstered his pistol and offered Tower a hand up.

"Now if I had warned you every time I wanted to blow something up, would this job be as exciting as it has been?" Tower told him he could go without the surprises. Wilkes and the doctor called them over to one of the jeeps; it really was time to get going.

X X X

The road out of Black Mesa was fairly straight forward, and Tower had expected more resistance. The dusty road lead them through a canyon and finally out into open country. His foot firmly planted on the accelerator, Tower had no intention of fighting all this way, only to be consumed in the nuclear blast. Jackson checked his watch; they had about another half hour before the bomb would be armed.

The doctor leaned over from the back seat and tapped Jackson on the shoulder. "Excuse me, I realize your desire to get as far as humanly possible from here, but could you possibly slow the vehicle down?" Jackson looked to Tower who shrugged _You tell him_.

Jackson turned around in his seat and gave the scientist the bad news. "In about half an hour, those assassins you saw… yeah… they're going to arm a nuclear bomb that will incinerate everything in a one hundred mile radius." Wilkes rolled his eyes, Jackson had a wonderful way with words, but most likely he just wanted to screw with the guy who had tried to kill him.

The doctor didn't take the news too well. His eyes widened again and he began hyperventilating. "A nuclear weapon, but why?"

Wilkes interjected. "To wipe the facility clean for good I suppose." The doctor slumped back in his seat.

"Oh my, that isn't good news at all." Jackson rolled his eyes; this guy was a real life absent-minded professor. The road ahead was clear of debris, they would be clear of the blast radius any minute.

The sky turned white, momentarily blinding the men inside the car. "Half an hour you said!" Wilkes screamed from the back seat. The doctor yelled something about not looking at the light, but Tower was too busy trying to concentrate on keeping the speeding vehicle on the road.

The air seemed to scream as Tower felt the ground beneath them shake uncontrollably, the asphalt cracking and lurching out of place. Jackson grabbed the dashboard and tried to stabilize himself. "This is some ride!" Tower couldn't get the car back on the road, because there wasn't much of the road left. Hitting an outcropping of asphalt, the jeep sailed off the road and into the air. The screams of his comrades were the last thing Tower heard as the car plowed into the sand, and then all was lost to the black, unforgiving void of unconsciousness.

A/N: Too long? Give me some feed back so I know what kind of length is most comfortable. As always, reviews help keep my inspiration alive and my imagination going!


	4. Twisted Turn of Events

-Shephard's Story-

-Twisted Turn of Events-

**A/N: I am desperately sorry this chapter has been so long in coming. But recently my laptop, along with all my work, was stolen. So as soon as I bought a replacement, I got right back to finishing it. I plan to have a long chapter released every other day. And again, thank you so much for the great reviews, they mean a lot to me.**

**Now on with the show!**

The world was upside down; at least it seemed that way to Tower. Hanging by his seat belt, his head touching the ceiling, he tried to make sense of where he was. Moving his arms hurt, but just the same the marine reached to unhook his belt. Tower slide out of his seat and out the broken driver's side window. Lying there among the coarse desert sand, the entire incident came flooding back to him. The Osprey ride, the fight through the complex, and the nuclear explosion.

He inhaled deeply, he was alive. His voiced cracked as he began to laugh. His body almost convulsed with the euphoria of making it this far. He laughed for life, he laughed for his comrades. The thought of his friends brought him back to reality. Arms, cut and bloodied from the broken glass, pushed him up from the sand. The car was turned upside down in a ditch next to a section of road. Running to the passenger side of the jeep, Tower tried to pry open the door.

"Jackson, you there man?" The old engineer was moaning in his seat, trying to unclip his belt. "Lemme get that." Tower pulled his combat knife out and slit the strap, causing his friend to plunge headfirst into the ceiling, eliciting a barrage of curses.

"Christ, where did you learn to drive?" Jackson struggled to get upright and out of the car.

"Probably the same place you learned to tell time." Tower shot back, reaching to help him up.

"Yeah well I was off by half and hour, what did you want me to do? Radio the Black Ops and say 'hey we're trying to escape here, I was wondering when you plan to detonate that bomb of yours?'" Tower grabbed his left arm and hoisted him out of the overturned car. "Ouch! Put me down, put me down!" Jackson yelled in pain. Tower let him down easy.

"He's probably broken his arm." Tower turned to see Wilkes standing behind him, a large cut above his eye and a bandage soaked in blood wrapped around his right hand.

"You alright, buddy?" Wilkes waved the comment away, he'd be okay. Kneeling next to Jackson, Wilkes gently squeezed the injured arm, causing him to mew in pain. Wilkes nodded to Tower that his diagnosis had been correct.

Sitting their friend up against the side of the car, Wilkes improvised a sling from some of the gauss he had left. "This'll do for now, but I cant set it without the proper supplies, that means getting to civilization."

Jackson pulled his last cigarette from his vest pocket and placed it between his lips. "Yeah good luck, we're miles away from anything resembling a bar. And what about the Doc?"

"He's knocked out cold, but he'll live." Jackson snorted in detest and puffed on the bud. "How much water do we have?" They'd need all they could carry to make it to the closest town in this scorching heat.

Tower knew the news wouldn't please the medic. "Whatever you got left in your canteen, that's it. There wasn't anything in the car." Jackson coughed into his right hand, the cigarette hanging limply from his bottom lip.

"We might as well throw in the fucking towel now." He said between puffs. Wilkes turned his head in the direction of the base, the gray mushroom cloud slowly fading into the wind.

"Dehydration could be the least of our problems, if the wind blows in our direction, we going to get hit with that fall out. The radiation we've already been exposed to wont be good for our health." All the more reason to start walking. Tower had seen the pictures in hazardous environment training of the guys who'd been exposed to high levels of radiation, and he didn't want to end up like them, dying on some hospital bed, they're own throat chocking them to death due to swelling.

Jackson moved to get up and, grunting in pain, managed to stabilize himself against the side of the jeep. "That's okay Wilkes, I didn't plan on having kids anyways."

"Maybe that's for the best." Wilkes mumbled. Jackson laughed out loud, and immediately regretted it. Any movement hurt his arm.

Tower opened the door on Doctor Bennett's side and he and Wilkes pulled him from his position curled up in the ceiling. "Any way to wake him up? We wont be able to carry him the whole way." Wilkes told him that besides an injection of adrenaline, the doc could stay this way. "Why not give him the shot?"

Wilkes checked the man's pulse and cleaned up the gash across his forehead. "Oh it'll wake him up alright, and immediately put him back into shock, he could die from a heart attack." Tower didn't need the doctor dieing on him, but they needed to get out of the way of the fallout.

Jackson stepped out onto the road, trying to see if he could make out anything down the way. It looked like a long walk, one he dreaded making. The sun sat high in the sky, a vigilant and deadly watchdog. Heat rose from the asphalt and made it seem as those the road was trembling.

Or maybe it really was trembling. Jackson felt his feet vibrate and he turned to the other two marines. "Hey you guys feel that?" Tower could see the sand shift and sway. How could their situation possibly get any worse? His question was rewarded with what he thought must have been a cruel joke played on him by his maker.

All across their view of the desert, the same green portals appeared enmass. They covered the landscape and the sky grew dark with gray clouds of despair. Out of the portals dropped the same electricity spitting creatures that had plagued them for the past two days.

More than two-dozen of the Xenian creatures surrounded the tiny jeep. They stood still for a moment, most likely unsure of where they were and why they had been brought to this strange, unknown place.

"This has got to be some kind of fucking joke!" Jackson screamed at the top of his lungs. He couldn't believe it, they had escaped, and they were home free. But even out here these things still hunted them. The aliens took notice of the frantic human figure and let out a collective howl. Tower stood paralyzed, they were completely helpless. Dehydration no longer presented a problem, nor did the radiation, they didn't have near enough ammunition to defend themselves. Tower and Wilkes took cover in the space between the edge of the ditch and the side of the overturned car.

"Jackson get down here!" Tower yelled to his friend. He didn't move from his spot on the road though. Instead he brought his pistol up to bear and took aim. He had six shots left, five for them… one for himself. "What the hell are you doing!" Tower screamed, he wouldn't be able to kill them all, it was suicide. The moaning persisted from the creatures, but they had yet to attack. The sky overhead still rumbled with thunder and shook the ground; it was a terrifying spectacle indeed. Running from his position under cover, Tower scrambled up the side of the ditch and onto the road. Jackson was trying to flick the laser sight on with one hand, and was frantically mumbling to himself. Tower grabbed him and pulled him off the road and into the ditch.

"No!" Jackson screamed. "Lemme go! I'll kill em!" Wilkes grabbed his broken arm and squeezed tightly, causing his friend to cry out in pain, not anger.

"Sit the fuck down and shut up. Listen." The three sat intently and tried to hear the roar of the ravenous creatures over the thunder and lighting of the storm. But there was nothing, no sounds of clicking mandibles or hungry mouths could be heard.

"Oh my cranium!" The doctor was finally waking. He shifted awkwardly and rubbed the gash on his head. Wilkes put his hand over the Walter Bennett's mouth and brought a finger to his lips, pointing under the car and through the broken windows. The doctor, confused, looked out to the other side of the vehicle. His face paled as he saw how many of the creatures lay on the other side. "I've never seen so many vortigaunts in one place." He whispered. So that's what they were called, Wilkes tucked that little bit of information back in his mind for the time being. "But they're acting strangely, just standing there."

The vortigaunts, who normally stooped and hunched over, were now standing erect, like a human. Their eyes moved to focus on one new, strange thing after the next, taking in their surroundings, but they did not growl, they did not howl. Slowly, each one turned to another and raised their three grotesque arms to the sky, each letting out not a moan, but more of a shriek. The high-pitched sound overwhelmed the four men as it rose over even the thunder and lightening.

"What the hell are they doing?" Tower yelled over the piercing shriek. The doctor didn't reply, he was fixated on the creatures that were mere yards away. The cry finally subsided and the creatures ripped at the shackles covering their bodies. The green metal sank into the sand and the vortigaunts rubbed the raw flesh beneath. The doctor rose from his squatting position, his head visible above the jeep. Tower grabbed for the man's lab coat, trying to pull him back down. "Get back down! They can see you!"

"I knew it!" The scientist cried. "They have intelligence, but were slaves to something, or someone. Freeman you did it!" Tower was about to ask the doctor what that traitorous saboteur had to with anything, but the doctor's cry had attracted some unwanted attention.

Several of the nearby vortigaunts snapped their heads in the direction of the four, attracted by the human's cries. Their feet sank uneasily into the sand as they hobbled over to the car, seeming as nervous as the men hiding from them. Tower gripped his combat knife tightly, knowing that whatever came next, he wasn't going down without a fight. But he couldn't possibly have predicted what would happen next.

Three vortigaunts wobbled up to the car, their red eyes shifting like the sand beneath their feet. Wilkes closed his eyes and waiting for the sparking sound that accompanied the electric shock, but it never came. Instead the three marines heard a strange gurgling sound, like someone struggling to speak underwater. Doctor Bennett never moved from his spot behind the car, but he did not cringe in fear either, as the alien creature tried to move its mouth in such a way as to produce human words.

"Frr…ffrrr." One began. "Freeeeee." Another continued. "Freema….nnn." The last one completed the word. The other two copied the last and soon they were chanting the scientist's name.

"Freeman, Freeman, Freeman." They raised their liberated arms into the gray sky and soon the rest of the vortigaunts were doing the same. Tower heard the man's name over and over again, in the same strange tone that the creatures spoke with.

"They can talk." He whispered to Jackson, who shrugged and let his hand stray to his pistol.

"They can bleed too. One wrong move, and I wont think twice about blowing a hole in the face of doc's precious pets." For the moment the three sat tight, listening to the chanting of the vortigaunts. The doctor finally moved from his spot and slowly approached the alien creatures, not wanting to startle them.

"Freeman, yes… he saved you, didn't he? He broke you out of your bondage?" He spoke to the nearest one, who stopped his chanted, following almost immediately by the rest of the group, it seemed to imply some type of communal intelligence, the doctor thought.

"Say…saav…d….saved." The creature was amazing, it was learning words as fast the doctor spoke them to it.

"Yes, yes! That's it!" Tower finally had enough of hiding behind the car and slowly stood up. The alien's center eye stayed focused on the doctor, the eye on the left side of his face strayed to focus on the marines. Dilating and moving from soldier to soldier, the alien lost interest in the doctor and snapped around. Jackson brought his gun up, but Tower held it away from the alien, shaking his head.

"Sh…shep…ard." The vortigaunt gargled. "Shephard…" It was unmistakable; this thing knew the name of their missing comrade.

The doctor was further confused by this turn of events. He looked to the three marines. "You know someone by that name?" Tower was about to reply when Wilkes nudged him.

"Hey you hear that?" A rhythmic noise was coming from the other side of the road. Wilkes climbed the ditch to get a better look.

"What do you see?" Wilkes brought his hand up and waved as though he was trying to get someone's attention. He stood there for several seconds then turned and dove back down into the ditch.

"Take cover!" The doctor was still trying to talk to the vortigaunt when a black helicopter flew overhead.

"What is the meaning of this!" The doctor yelled over the whine of the rotors. The helicopter flew over the group of vortigaunts, and then doubled back, flying lower to the ground.

"Doctor Bennett, get your ass back here!" Wilkes screamed. The other two asked Wilkes what the problem was. "It's an apache, an attack helicopter." And with that the helicopter opened fire on the vortigaunts. The creatures scattered, but in the wide-open desert, the helicopter had the upper hand. It mowed down the creatures, smearing yellow blood across the crimson rock.

"No, what are they doing!" The doctor screamed, the nearest vortigaunt shrieked as the helicopter made a pass over it and the doctor. The aging man waved his hands at the black plane screaming that there was no threat. If he could just make them understand, that these creatures no longer posed a hostile threat. But before he knew it, alien hands were lifting him off the ground, and he was being carried behind the car.

Tower couldn't believe his eyes when he saw the yellow-brown creature crawl into the space behind the jeep, the doctor in tow. It cradled the man in its three arms like a mother holding an infant. The helicopter made one more pass, spinning its gatling gun, and bringing down several more of the creatures. With each vortigaunt demise, the marines could see their new alien companion wince in pain. Could these things feel each other's pain? Finally the helicopter disappeared from view, leaving only a cloud of smoke from the overused machine guns. As the storm raged overheard, the marines contemplated what to do.

The vortigaunt that had saved the doctor was hunched over, not used to being confined to such a small place. Jackson, sitting next to it, was understandably uneasy. He tried to shift his body to turn away from the alien, but only managed to press his bad arm against the side of the jeep. Searing pain shot up his side.

"Ouch! God damnit!" Jackson groaned through his teeth. The alien next to him turned to face him, the four red eyes all focusing on the grieving man.

"G..gawd." The alien mimicked. Jackson cursed and pulled the canteen of whiskey from his vest. Hell if he was going to die, he would greet it with a smile on his face and a warmth in his stomach. He shook the container and, hearing a pleasant swish, popped the top off.

"God." He said tipping the flask at the vortigaunt. "You know, the guy who really seems to hate us right about now." The sarcasm poured out of his mouth as the whiskey flowed in. The searing pain continued to crawl up his arm, it was maddening. "Wilkes you don't have anymore morphine?"

Wilkes and Tower were staring into the sky. They thought if they stayed hidden long enough, maybe they could leave by nightfall when it would be easier to avoid detection. Wilkes rummaged through his medical bag and frowned, shaking his head. "Sorry man. All my needles are unusable."

"Oh this is just great." He touched his arm where he was sure the break was, just below the elbow on the backside. The area was tender and it would start to swell soon. "Just great…"

"Gr….ate…great." The vortigaunt's alien hands reached for the arm, its mandibles clicking and grinding. Jackson pathetically tried to push the creature away.

"Beat it! I'm not going to be your dinner, bug face!" He brought his boot up to kick the thing in the face but he was stopped short by the blue stream of light the middle, smaller arm, began to conjure. The ethereal glow lit the near blackness of the hole in which they hid. It extended from the vortigaunt's arm and snaked its way through the air and surrounded Jackson's arm. The rhythmic clicking was now replaced by a rapid humming coming from within the creature's throat. "Hey what are you…" But he was slowly becoming light headed. Wilkes and Tower sat still, mesmerized by the light show in front of them. Jackson's broken arm gradually began to feel numb, until he couldn't feel anything from his shoulder down. Finally the blue light began to fade, and the numbness disappeared.

The vortigaunt placed his three pronged hands on the arm where the break had been. "Grrreat." It mumbled. The pain was completely gone, Jackson couldn't feel the break, and it really felt _great_.

Realizing the feeling of the cool alien flesh probing his arm, he whipped it away. "Hands off buddy."

"Buddy." The creature was getting used to human speech, his vocabulary growing with each verbal transaction.

Tower smiled. "Hey Jackson, I think you got yourself a new friend." The vortigaunt copied Tower's facial expression, albeit ineptly. Jackson grimaced and looked away.

"There is not enough liquor in the _world_ to make me want to be this thing's fri.." Wilkes' gasp stopped him short though.

"Here they come again." Wilkes moaned as the thumping of rotary blades assaulted their ears again. In the sky overheard the weary survivors saw a gray Chinook helicopter descend to the desert surface. It kicked up dust and debris, forcing the men and their alien friend out of the confined space. Maybe these people were here to help.

Tower neared the helicopter, shrouded in dust. Out of the cloud slowly appeared two figures, both clad in white HAZMAT suits. Tower's heart leapt in his chest. This must be the nuclear response team out of Santiago Marine base. He waved for Wilkes and Jackson to get moving as he jogged up to the two suited figures.

Their faces hidden by black visors, the two men met the marines in the midst of the killing field. "Jesus, are we glad to see you guys." Jackson pointed to the fading mushroom cloud. "Hey that blast is going to produce some nasty fall out. We need to get out of here…"

The figure on the left cut Jackson off before he could finish complaining. "Are you the only survivors?" His voice was cold and icy, not filled with concern like they had hoped. It sounded more like he was making a report. Tower nodded and pointed to the alien and the doctor, both leaning on each other for support. The two men didn't seem to be surprised by the creature. One tapped a radio attached to the suit. "Command this is clean up, we have three marine survivors, one civilian, and a xeno."

Tower didn't like the way these guys were acting, they didn't seem like marines at all. "Hey what regiment are you guys with?" The two men exchanged veiled glances. Tower knew something was wrong now.

"This one." The one on the right pulled a pistol from his pocket and pointed it at Tower's leg, knowing his vest would protect him. There was a woosh of air and a needle, filled with a powerful sedative dropped him like a ton of bricks. The other man reached for his weapon and stunned the other two marines. Tapping his radio once more, the masked man informed command that the marines were sedated. The radio spouted back static gibberish. Leaning over Tower's body, the man fingering through the pockets of the vest until he found what he was looking for.

"Got it." The disk with the security feed between the man's fingers. Two figures unloaded from the helicopter, dressed in the form fitting jumpsuit characteristic of the Black Operations personnel. "These three are needed for questioning. Get them on board." The black visor then swiveled towards the alien and the doctor. "They need to come too, lets move it, this storm is only getting worse."

X X X

Tower's Limp form connected with the ground, the jolt bringing him back to consciousness in a flash of pain. He groaned and rubbed his eyes. Behind him he could hear the muffled laughter of what he was sure were Black Operatives. They had been duped, Wilkes, Jackson, the doctor and he. The men in the hazard suits weren't sent in to collect survivors; so much as they were witnesses. Tower rolled over onto his back and squinted to see in the dim light. The walls of the room were so close together, he was sure he was in a cell.

"Fuck you!" He could hear someone scream down the hall. Crawling to the bars facing down the cellblock, Tower was not at all surprised at what he saw.

The struggling form of Jackson, his arms flailing, looking for an opening to slug one of his captors, was being drug down the block. "No! Fuck this shit! Lemme go!" He successfully managed to connect with the right cheek of one of the men, who did not flinch as he unholstered his pistol and slammed the butt of it against Jackson's face. The marine spewed blood across the floor, and coughed up more. "You fucking piece of shit!" He mumbled through a bloody mouth. The jumpsuit clad assassins stopped in front of the cell adjacent to Towers and radioed for the door to be opened.

"Get in." Tower could see them throw Jackson inside. Slamming the door shut, Jackson reached out through the bars for the neck of one of the men, his voice full of absolute hatred.

"You better fucking kill me! You murderers, you don't give a damn!" One of the men walked up to Jackson, though not within his grasp, and lifted the black balaclava, revealing a youthful face, but eyes that seem to imply they had seen more death than was their fair share.

"You'll die here, make no mistake." The cold eyes shifted to the left and right of Jackson's cell. His voice grew louder as if addressing a larger audience. "You'll all die here, once you've outlived your usefulness." His eyes rested back on Jackson, boring holes into the older marine's, whose fiery hatred seemed quelled in front of such icy coldness. His grasping arm fell, and the body slinked away from the bars. The two assassins marched down the hallway, never breaking stride with each other.

Tower thought about what the man had said. What did he mean by usefulness? What was there that the black ops could want from them? His mind clicked, and Tower felt for the front pocket of his PCV, but it was gone. They'd take the data disk.

"Damnit…" He leaned against the bars, his spirit taking a sharp blow.

"Tower that you?" Tower perked up at the sound of Wilkes' voice. A pair of hands flashed out of the bars next to his cell. Tower reached through and grabbed the outstretched hand.

"Yeah buddy its me. They took the disk." Wilkes was silent for a moment.

"Doesn't surprise me, I guess." The silence continued, neither man knew what to say. But they knew what each other were thinking. They were royally screwed. There would be no cavalry, no reinforcements, just them and the black ops. In the cell to the right of Tower, the two could hear Jackson spitting, red droplets of blood hitting the floor in front of his cell. "Sounded painful."

"No shit." Two red hands, obviously used to wipe blood from his mouth, rested on the bars. "What the fuck now?"

"Where's the doc?" Wilkes asked, he had been in the cellblock the longest, and had seen neither hide nor hair of the doctor and their vortigaunt friend.

"Better yet, where the fuck are _we_?" Jackson was answered, but not by Tower or Wilkes.

"A staging area for the Black Operatives." The voice was male, and came from Jackson's left. The engineer was startled to hear another voice in the loneliness of the block and arched his head, trying to catch a glimpse of anyone in the cell next to him.

"Who the hell are you?" Jackson asked, bits of blood still flicking out of his mouth.

"Private Anderson, 501st HECU." The man pronounced the acronym of the Hazardous Environment Combat Unit _hekuh_, which is how everyone in the marines referred to it.

Jackson exploded in a fit of coughs. "Bullshit, all of you murderers high tailed it the second you were done cleaning up for Uncle Sam!" Two gloved hands appeared at the bars, and the top of a shiny bald head rested against them.

"Murderers? What the hell are you taking about?" Wilkes and Tower listened intently. All three of them had thought that the marines had done their dirty work and left, leaving behind a lot of good men that didn't deserve to die.

Jackson deliberately spat the rest of the blood in his mouth in the direction of the marine. "You fuckers did the governments dirty work. Killin' all those innocent civilians…"

The hands and head slunk away from the bars. "Oh…" The man began. "You must have been separated awhile then, weren't you?" Jackson was confused, what was this murderer talking about?

"We got separated from our CO, our bird crashed and we had to hump it through the facility to make it to some of the excess transports." Wilkes calmly explained. The man was silent for a while, and then began.

"The birds that made it to the LZ's were immediately ordered to 'sweep and clean'. Only Colonel Graves," The leader and commanding officer of the 501st HECU. "knew what the orders were. No one had any clue what was going on. When the creatures attacked, we began to understand that something had gone terribly wrong. My squad commander ordered us to ignore our orders and save as many civilians as possible." Tower sucked in a sigh of relief; here was the proof, the vindication that the 501st had nothing to do with the atrocities of Black Mesa. The private continued. "We rescued a group of scientists and security personnel and brought them back to board one of the birds when Colonel Graves ordered that they be shot. When my commander refused to do so, the Colonel said he'd be shot for insubordination." The marine chuckled slightly. "My CO told him to fuck off. So the Colonel pulled his side arm on him. We knew he was going to do it. But Dmitri Destovaya, shot him."

"Dmitri?" Jackson asked, incredulous. Dmitri Destovaya was the Colonel's notorious lap dog. It was impossible to even think that he might shoot the Colonel.

"Yeah, the man must have grown some balls. Anyways, with Dmitri now in command of the 501st, he rallied the rest of the squads together and ordered us to rescue who we could, and evac." Jackson was glad to hear that his comrades weren't involved, but how did that explain the scientists who were ardent that Marines had attacked them.

"Oh them." Anderson's tone became filled with resentment. "Those fuckers were the regular infantry. When Uncle Sam found out we wouldn't have any of it, he sent in two battalions backed up by the Black Ops. They had no problem doing the dirty work."

"So why are you here? Why didn't you evac?" Wilkes asked.

"Me? My squad made one last attempt at stopping the spooks from detonating the nuke, but they had the drop on us, and we were either taken prisoner… or executed." Tower slammed his fist against the wall.

"Goddamnit! They can't get away with it!" The other marines lamented with him, and the cellblock grew quiet as they pondered their next move.

"Where exactly did the 501st go?" Asked Wilkes, if they got out, it would at least be pertinent to know where they were headed. Not like it was very likely they would see the outside of this place at all.

"Well before me and my squad left, there was talk of hot footing it back to base, to pick up the rest of the HECU. Dmitri had been keeping in contact with the reinforcements there. But after disobeying direct orders, shooting a superior officer, and retreating, I doubt they could stay anywhere in the open for long. They have to be hiding."

It all made sense to Tower now, what the operative had said about their 'usefulness'. "They think we know where the 501st is. They think that we'll tell them how to find the rest of us." The thought sent shivers down his spine; the Black Ops knew they wouldn't divulge any information willingly. They would torture first, ask questions later, questions that the four marines didn't have the answers to. "We need to get out of here."

"No shit, Sherlock." Anderson replied dryly. "But, we're about three stories underground right now, being watched by some of the most well trained killers the world has ever seen." Tower looked to Wilkes, a questioning look on his face.

"Three stories underground?" He didn't remember riding an elevator; in fact he didn't remember anything between being sedated, and landing on his face in his cell.

"Yeah, I was awake by the time we landed. We're not far from Black Mesa, about a hundred or so klicks, I'd say. On the surface, this place looks like just a rusted out hanger, standing alone in a desert valley. Inside, though, is a different story."

Before any of the marines could reply, the sounds of boot heels clicking in unison echoed down the block. They all strained to see, and caught a glimpse of two operatives, their rifles at the ready, marching decisively. They took up position in front of the cell of Anderson and radioed that his door be unlocked.

"Come on, big boy, lets have a talk." They hauled the marine, his shredded white fatigues covered in blood, down the hall. He didn't fight them; he seemed to accept his fate.

Jackson rubbed his hands together and slunk to the floor. "We're never going to make it out of here, are we?"

X X X

"Eat." Was all the man said, as he threw the plate of unrecognizable, not to mention practically non-edible, foodstuffs into Tower's cell. He picked at the sloppy gray mass; the consistency of runny mashed potatoes, and decided he was better off hungry.

"Hey! What about my one phone call!" Wilkes shouted after the man as he exited the holding cell room. The men had been held captive for several days, and not once had they seen any evidence that their comrade, Anderson, was going to return, they had all begun to assume the worst. As Tower set the plate down and laid his exhausted form on the uncomfortable metal cot, he pondered letting himself sleep, a luxury he had denied himself for the last thirty-six hours. As his eyes slowly slid shut and the warm, inviting grasp of sleep swept over him, Tower wondered if he would wake up in his bed, back at the Santiago marine base, and realize this was all a bad dream.

But before the marine could indulge in the hidden pleasure of sleep, the walls began to shake, and his cot began to wobble. "Looks like it's starting again." He could Jackson say. The earthquakes had become so common, nearly one every twelve hours, that the marines had almost grown accustomed to them. Almost.

That the ground should shake so violently, or that the sounds of explosions above should reverberate so deep into the underground facility, the marines could not find the reasoning for. But they had bigger problems on their plate currently. Like how to escape from their interrogation facility. But no matter how many ways they twisted the truth, the current situation, there was no solution. They were locked up, and would remain that way until the Black Operatives saw otherwise.

"You think the 501st is has already gotten the truth out?" Wilkes had grown increasingly silent in the past day and a half, but he ventured out from the back corner of his cell periodically to ask Tower his opinion. On this topic, though, Tower had no advice or knowledge.

"Beats me, man. I hope so, but if they have, then why are we still here?" Tower had a point. They had been held captive for so long, he almost wished that the double doors at the end of the hall would sweep open, and the black men would come for them, to take them away, to a painfully uncertain future.

And as the doors did just that, screeching and groaning as they did, Tower wondered if he should retract his wish. Two men, each identical to the other, stood in front of Tower's cell, and in the same routine that he had seen before, radioed for the cell to open, and one aimed his M4 at Tower, while the other clamped his hands with restraints.

"You're next, buddy." Knowing now how Anderson felt, the utter hopelessness, Tower realized it was futile to fight, and went willingly.

X X X

Being awake for the walk through the facility afforded Tower a glimpse at its internal workings. The hallways were low and narrow, but down every dark linoleum corridor stood several rooms, each one darker than the last, but lit by the glowing lights of the blue computer banks. The assassins pushed him forward with the muzzles of their rifles, but Tower was able to catch a glimpse of several sadistic looking rooms, each occupied by a bloody chair, restraints attached to the arms and legs, electrodes lying at the base.

Could that be what was in store for him? Tower worried, as he was lead into another hallway, this one much brighter. The rooms that lined the corridor were no longer filled with implements of torture, but with scientific research equipment, much like he had seen at Black Mesa. Did they perhaps steal the equipment from there? It could be suggested, considering how the equipment lay strewn about the rooms, in no particular order.

Eventually they came to the end of the corridor and stood in front of a large, rusted red metal door. Knocking once, an annoyed voice called for them to enter. What Tower saw next was surprising to say the least.

"We'll you must be Private Tower, am I correct?" The man was obviously in his late fifties, white hair like snow covering the mountain of his head, and cascading down the sides of his face to form a neatly trimmed goatee. Dressed in a brown suit and black turtleneck, the man was the embodiment of a new age scholar. He sat in a large leather chair, behind a bank of monitors, filled with different video feeds. There was even one of the topside world, but the view was obstructed by rubble and debris, but threw the cracks, he could see the sky over head, and the cloud looked _green._

A rifle butt slammed into Tower's backside, bringing him to his knees. "The man asked you a question." He heard one of the men behind him sneer. The old man, though, waved his hand, dismissing one of the operatives.

"Please there's no need of that…" He trailed off. "Yet." He finished. Tower regained his composure and the kindly looking gentleman gesture to a chair in front of the desk. "Please sit, I have some questions I need to ask you."

Tower refused to sit for this man. He could feel the soldier behind him raise his rifle to attack him once more, but the old gentleman raised his hand once more, an exasperated look smeared across his face. "As you wish. My name is Wallace Breen, the former administrator of Black Mesa."

X X X

"This is bullshit." Jackson said, kicking at the bars of his cell. "If we don't do something now, we'll never get out of here." He pointed down the hall in the direction Tower had gone. "They'll do to him what they did to Anderson if we don't move."

Wilkes, cradling his head in his hands, almost began to sob at the hopelessness of the situation, but gulped down the tears. He would feel better if he just had a plan. "I know man, but what the hell are we gonna do?"

Jackson's eyes shifted to the floor. "Yeah, I know, we really don't have many options." Wilkes jumped down from off of his cot and began pacing his cell. He pulled out the canteen he had been given for water and pulled open the cap. Tipping it to let the cool refreshing liquid enter cleanse his arid palette, he was disappointed when nothing came out.

"Damnit, just my luck." He chucked the canteen across the room. He was so frustrated he could practically scream.

_Scream_. Jesus, he thought, that was it. Running up to the bars, he whispered as low as he could, but still loud enough for Jackson to hear him. Their conversation continued on in whispers, careful not to alert anyone who might be listening in.

Jackson's face contorted in a mixed expression of confusion and disbelief. "You really think it'll work?"

Wilkes' mouth cracked a grin the Grim Reaper might display. "Got a better idea?"

X X X

"Now that introductions have been made, I have a few things to discuss with you. Such as your involvement with the Black Mesa incident." The old man, by the name of Wallace Breen, took a seat behind the desk, leaving Tower to stand, his guard taking up post behind him, conveniently within striking distance.

"Our bird took a hit, crashed near the administrative building. Me and two of my squad members were the only ones that survived." He answered curtly. Breen tussled the whiskers in his white goatee pensively, as if he didn't quite believe the private. Shuffling papers from a file and laying them out across the desk, he sifted through them until his face registered something positive.

"I see you were instrumental in the rescue of doctor Walter Bennett. Congratulations, private, you have saved one of the finest minds of our generation." Reading further, his eyes widened and he looked up. "You were able to capture one of the Vortigaunts as well?"

"He captured us is more like it. Hostile intentions ended once the nuclear explosion decimated the facility. A nuclear detonation triggered by these fuckers!" He turned to the Black Op standing guard. Tower knew he was going to be beaten, physically and figuratively, but he knew he wouldn't go down without a fight. Breen stared at the marine, then at the operative.

"Actually, they were under my direct supervision, private. So, in retrospect, I am the 'fucker' you so desperately wish to pulverize." Tower turned and the hatred in his eyes was now focused on the bureaucratic looking figure sitting across from him. The man brought his hands up in defense. "But believe me, the option was chosen after all others had been exhausted." The man's tone soon became sarcastic. "You it had not been for you and the rest of your unit, failures not worthy of wearing that uniform, the situation would have been contained, and the current state of affairs would not be so grim."

What did he mean by current state of affairs? He was about to ask when Breen launched his next set of questions. "Now I need to know, the sake of global security, where the remainder of the 501st, under the rogue command of Colonel Dmitri Dostovaya, is hiding." Tower shook his head, he hated being right.

"I don't know." He knew no matter what answer he gave, the outcome would be the same, and so he might as well tell the truth. As expected the rifle butt connected with his lower back and sent pain shooting up and down his spine. Tower dropped to one knee and struggled to keep his balance with the restraints still firmly clasped around his wrists. His teetering, though, would be for not, as a solid boot kicked him face first into the concrete floor. Once more, the same boot connected with his ribs and the private gasped for air.

Breen clasped his hands together, his eyes downcast, as if ashamed to watch the man being beaten. He was obviously a stranger to the world of the Black Operatives. "Now that hopefully we've refreshed your memory, lets try that one again, shall we…?"

X X X

"Hey! Hey! Down here! We need water! Come on! We're going to die!" Wilkes screamed at the top of his lungs, his arms flailing outside of the bars, hoping to attract attention. He had been screaming for near ten minutes, and his voice was slowly become horse. If he couldn't attract the attention of the guard outside the door, they would have no chance of making it out of here.

Thankfully, though, Wilkes didn't have to scream much longer, as the double steel doors squealed open, and a lone operative marched down the hallway, two full canteens under his arms. He stopped in front of Jackson's cell and dropped a canteen near it. He then did the same thing for Wilkes, and began to walk away.

Not wanting his chance to slip away, Wilkes called out to the man. "Hey, hey, stop." The man turned, and leveled his gaze on the captive marine. Wilkes continued, "Look I know I'm fucked, but man if I could have one last thing, it would be a cigarette, you got any?" The Black Op was silent for a few seconds, but relented. Wilkes almost felt sorry for the man, after the little bit of humanity he had just shown, he almost regretted what he was about to do.

Pulling a small, unmarked packet of cigarettes from his front vest pocket, the assassin stuck one between the marine's lips. He fished out a zippo lighter and flicked it open. Jackson knew the signal and took the large piece of debris he had picked from the floor and chucked it through the bars, causing it to land behind the operative, who instinctively turned around. Bad idea.

His time at hand, Wilkes reached through the bars and swiftly and silently, twisted the man's neck so hard, that he was dead before he hit the floor. As quick as he could, Wilkes was pulling the body up against the bars, looking for the keys. Instead he found a PDA, the names and locations of the cells drawn out on a digital map. Using the stylus, he tapped the holding cells that he was sure corresponded with his and Jackson's. The gates slowly opened, and the two marines picked the dead guards body of clean of anything useful.

Shouldering the silenced M4, Wilkes continued to look through the stylus for anything useful, why Jackson marveled at the dead assassin.

"Where the fuck did you learn to do that?" He asked, not even sure if _he_ had the dexterity and speed to snap a neck that smoothly. Wilkes' focus never left the PDA's screen as he flipped through folders and prisoner rosters.

"It looks like the good Doctor and our alien friend are being held here." He said showing Jackson the glowing screen. "One level up." He scrolled down farther, and his brow furrowed. "Oh no…"

"What?" Jackson said, pulling the silenced pistol from the guard's holster.

"They're both due for 'termination'." Jackson grabbed the extra pistol clips and stuffed them into his PCV, the Heads Up Display registering their acquisition.

"What about Tower?" Wilkes scrolled through more files, till he came across the one marked interrogation.

"He's still 'in progress', I don't know that means. Lets split up, you grab the doctor, I'll get Tower." He showed Jackson a small blue print of the next level up. "I'll meet you here, it's a storage area, its far removed from any security stations. Any trouble," He tapped his ear, the signal for their PCV's build in radio. "You know what to do."

The two men exchanged looks of exhaustion, but knew that their work was far from over. They then took off in opposite directions, but their destination was the same.

**A/N: Please review! It keeps me alive!**


	5. The Escape

-Shephard's Story-

-The Escape-

"Please, Private Tower! I want to appeal to your sense of reason!" Blood splattered across the floor as the operative again slammed the butt of his rifle against the back of Tower's head. This was him trying to reason with Tower, right… he could tell. He and his unit had had several training sessions on torture, how to cope, how to keep from breaking, but no one had ever thought they would actually need to _learn_ it. But lying on the cold stone floor in a base far removed from the public's eye, surrounded by a government scandal and subsequent cover-up, in a pool of his own blood and saliva Tower began to wish he had taken a few notes.

"I only want to make it clear to you that your friends will wreak havoc if they are allowed to…"

Tower's eyes grew angry; his friends were honorable men, unlike this sniveling bureaucrat trying to 'reason' with him. "To what? To do _what_?"

"To tell the world what they saw! They will only make the transition more difficult!" The scientist spoke in a furious tone, his hands trembling at his sides. Transition? What had he meant by that? Breen, realizing he had said too much, tried to direct Tower's attention somewhere else. "What happened was for the good of mankind!" He must have been referring to the Black Mesa Incident, but why did he think it was such a good thing? "We are but…" He wasn't even talking to Tower now; staring at his hands, he seemed to talk to himself. "bacteria, floating stagnant in a pool of primordial ooze. But!" He lifted a finger, his gaze never leaving the desk. "But soon humanity will rise above this cradle of dirt and air, our gaze will be lifted away from our shattered world, full of depravity, war, and decay, and pointed towards the heavens."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Tower didn't know if the man was mad or not, but his complete detachment from the current situation suggested so. Breen's eyes narrowed to slits, and his voice became drenched in acid.

"You military men know nothing of the stars, the wealth, the knowledge they can afford us. You make war, and when you are not making it, you train for it. It is you," He pointed an accusing finger. "That have destroyed our cradle of life. It is time for the intellectuals, those with the mind to change the world, to take it back." He nodded to the operative, his tepidness towards the beating disappearing with his newfound confidence. The soldier brought his heavy boot to Tower's backside and sent yet more searing pain through his body.

The doctor rose from his seat and kneeled down next to the wounded marine. "Now tell me where the rest of your unit has escaped to." Tower spit, a trite and useless expression at best, covering Breen's face with speckles of blood. The old man pulled his hand back as if he were going to strike, but as the arm reached the apex of its swing, the monitors behind Breen's desk flashed in alarm. The hand fell away and the doctor quickly jumped to his feet, dashing for his computer.

"My word, I expected more warning…Yes I understand, but are you sure everything is prepared?" Tower didn't hear a voice responding, so who could Breen be speaking to? The man's face contorted into an expression of anxiety mixed with dread. "Yes, yes. It will be done, right away." The glow the computer screen cast upon the man's face faded. He turned to the operative. "It doesn't matter now, take him back to his cell. I don't care what happens after that." He reached for an intercom sitting on the oak desk and tapped it. "Security, ready the helicopter."

"Come on." The Operative grabbed him by the collar and drug the private's large, bruised, form out of the doctor's office. _No, no, no!_ Tower's mind screamed, he wasn't going to die! Shuffling down the hall, his brain worked overtime, trying to formulate a plan, or else they'd kill him and his friends. But with the assassin's gun trained on him, and his body badly beaten, the marine could do little, if anything, to save himself. He struggled with the restraints but in the end proved futile. "Fuck this shit." The operative said, and stopping just short of the end of the hallway, shoved Tower into a near by room, devoid of anyone, the lights dimmed to near blackness. "On your knees." He pushed down on the back of Tower's neck with the rifle. "Now."

When Tower didn't comply, a swift blow to the kidneys forced him to. Dropping to one knee, Tower knew it was over, he wouldn't save his friends this time. As the muzzle rested on the back of his head, Tower let out one final sigh, praying that Wilkes and Jackson would have a better chance than he.

"Say goodnight." He heard the operative nearly whisper.

"Goodnight." The operative would have turned to see whom it was that had replied, but the blade slicing across his throat precluded him from doing anything but slowly dying. The muzzle fell from the back of his head and Tower nearly sobbed in gratitude.

"Jesus, Tower, you have some of the world's worst luck." The familiar voice of Wilkes carried through the darkness of the room like a bird's song on the wind. A knife cut the restraints on his hands, and Tower rubbed his raw wrists. "Man they did a number on you. You okay?"

"I'll be okay." He took the marine into a bear hug and thanked him for saving his life.

"No problem. But we got a situation; Doctor Bennett and Jackson's vortigaunt friend are slated to be 'disposed' of. Now Jackson's already on his way up, but I 'spect he'll need some cover." Wilkes picked up the rifle lying at the foot of the dead assassin. "How about we's give him a hand?"

Tower smiled and eagerly took the weapon. "Good idea."

X X X

"Maybe I should have worked out more…" Jackson cursed himself as he slowly crawled through the ventilation duct. He had found the elevator that would lead him to the next floor up, but knew that if he just road it to the top, he would be seen. So he lifted the ceiling panel up and crawled out into the elevator shaft. There he found the vent, and with his knowledge of structural engineering, he was sure it would take him up.

So here he was, nearly suffocated by the claustrophobia, but almost sure he was on the right track. The map Wilkes had showed him pointed out that the doctor and the vortigaunt were being held down the hall from where the elevator would have deposited him on the second floor.

He moved slowly, not wanting to make noise. The vent wasn't inside the wall, but hung from the ceiling; if he were to make a wrong move, anyone standing guard would hear him. Peering through the grates in the vent, Jackson could see the forms of two guards, marching in step down the dimly lit corridor.

His boot slipped and knocked against the side of the vent, and Jackson held his breath. The two guards never broke stride, though, and moved down the hall in the opposite direction of where he was going. _Thank god_, he breathed silently.

Shuffling down the vent, he was sure he had come to the right place when it sectioned off to his right. He looked down through another grate and discovered a guard, standing at his post by a sturdy looking steel door. Jackson slowly, methodically, maneuvered himself to the right, so as not to attract undue attention, and crawled into the vent that ran through the holding room.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he was able to see the doctor through the grating. The old man was sitting with his back against the wall, his head cradled in his hands. Jackson reached into the slits between the grates, and quietly tried to wedge them out of their mooring in the vent. The old metal gave way, with a slight screeching sound, but nothing that would alert anyone. He placed it aside and began to move his form through the hole.

The doctor's gaze lifted from the floor when he had heard the rustling, and was startled to see the form of Sergeant Jackson hanging from the vent above the room.

"Oh heavens." He whispered, keen of the guard standing outside. "Where are your friends?" Jackson brushed himself off and pulled his pistol from the holster.

"They're on their way. Are you okay?" The doctor nodded. Jackson's gaze moved around the room filled with boxes and electrical equipment. "And where's…"

"We are here." The liquid voice came from behind. Jackson jumped and turned, seeing the vortigaunt standing behind several boxes.

"Damnit! Don't do that." Jackson immediately shut his mouth, he was sure he had been heard. He thought frantically about what to do, he could hear the guard outside moving, and was sure he could hear his gloved hand turning the knob.

The operative entered the room, his eyes scanning it through his light amplifying goggles. The two prisoners stood together in the shadowy room. "What was that sound?"

The doctor exchanged a glace with his alien friend. "What sound?" The operative stepped into the room; he knew he had heard something.

Standing behind the door, Jackson pushed it closed and swiftly ran up behind the man. Covering his mouth, Jackson jabbed the silenced pistol into his back, and pulled the trigger. The silencer combined with the close proximity, made the shot nearly silent. The man's body went limp, and he collapsed.

The doctor and the alien came out from behind the boxes. "Well now what are we to do? His comrades will surely notice his absence!" The doctor exclaimed in a frantic tone. The alien, with his quirky gate, most likely due to the way his legs pivoted at two separate joints, knelt down and inspected the dead human.

"This one's life essence as evaporated." He said, the two-fingered hand running over the Velcro and latex jumpsuit. The alien had obviously learned more vocabulary in their absence.

"Yeah, no shit Sherlock." Jackson then looked to the doctor. "And where did he learn to talk?"

"They're not like us. They have a communal intelligence. Of course they have individual personalities, but they refer to themselves as a collective, or 'vortessence' as they have coined it in human tongue. They feel what others feel, and know what others know. Every other vortigaunt has learned the words I've taught this one, and vise versa. But sergeant there are more pressing matters at hand, this vortigaunt has informed me that…"

The alien cut him, "Why do you refer to this one as Sherlock? Is it a term of endearment among the humans?" Jackson shook his head. This thing was like a child that wouldn't shut up.

"Yeah sure. You got it, Sherlock." The vortigaunt tried smiling again, but only managed to contort his face in an even uglier fashion.

"Sergeant, please. If you'll allow me, there's something you must know…" But again he was cut off.

"Then it is settled, this one's human name shall be Sherlock." Jackson didn't want to name it, it would give him a personality, and Jackson didn't know if you could handle killing something with a personality. But before he could argue, the radio attached to the body of the fallen guard crackled to life.

"Thirty-seven, this is command, over. You haven't checked in, what's your status?" Jackson had dreaded this. He held a finger up to silence the other two, and pulled the radio from the body.

"Uh roger that, this is thirty-seven over. I thought I heard something, but it was nothing. Over." The radio was silent for a few moments, and then replied.

"Affirmative, don't forget to check in again." A weight was lifted from his shoulders and Jackson dropped the radio. Grabbing the extra weapons, he saw one of the same PDA's Wilkes had found, and tried working it, hoping to find a route to safety.

"Damnit, I never could work these. We need to find a safe route to the level B2 storage facility. That'll be the rendezvous point." He fumbled with the stylus, but he doctor grabbed it and relieved him of that unsavory duty. Navigating the PDA with ease, the doctor looked for a hallway not in use, or a pathway not being watched.

"I…I don't know, I don't see anything. Every angle is being watched, if we attempt to escape, we'll only alert the whole base." Jackson cursed.

"Shit." The alien looked at him with some suspicion.

"Shit." He mimicked. Jackson groaned.

"Stop it." He growled. But on the inside he could feel himself almost smile.

The alien grew silent, and the doctor again replied that he didn't see any way around it. This was it, if they couldn't find a way to get out unnoticed, they would get out at all. But what had he expected? He should have realized they could only come so far before hitting a brick wall, and he had finally hit it.

Or had he? The lights above slowly flicked, and finally died. Behind the door, Jackson could the rest of the facility slowly powering down, what was going on? The radio lying on the ground cracked to life again.

"All units, all units, attention. Hostiles have infiltrated. Repeat, we are under attack, all non-essential personnel report to central security for orders." Who the hell had infiltrated the facility? And if so, were they friendly?

The sound of gunfire erupted down the hall, and Jackson decided that anything was better than sitting here. His newly acquired rifle at the ready, his hand reached for the door, and he slowly drew it open.

X X X

Making their way through the corridors on the holding cell level, Wilkes and Tower moved silently from room to room, trying to conceal their movement. Luckily, this level seemed reserved for storage of some of the equipment the Black Ops had seemed to have stolen from Black Mesa. Entering a room filled with data banks and computers, Tower slowed and inspected some of them.

"Hey you think we can get anything useful out of these?" He asked Wilkes. The medic read some of the text covering the screen and frowned.

"No…No this all seems to be experimental data. 'Subject has rejected the implant, but the cell tissue seems to accept the newly grafted tissue.' What the hell are they working on here?" Behind a group of consoles chest high, a moan escaped the lips of man lying prone on an operating table.

Tower and Wilkes both jumped, not having seen the man as they walked in. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, what the hell is _that_." Jackson said, pointing to the figure.

His skin was cut up and shred in several places, and where muscle should have been exposed, blue tissue and electronic diodes were present. Below the waist, the skin was a deep shade of gray, as if the tissue were necrotic, dead but not decaying. The back of the man's head was shaved and the skin partially cut away, revealing an attempt at surgically attaching a computer chip. The face, though, still resembled that of their comrade, Anderson.

"Fuck what did they do to him?" Wilkes said, standing helplessly at the side of the man.

"I dunno, you're the doctor!" Tower yelled impatiently. Wilkes sat a nearby computer console and flipped through the files that were open. Tower knelt by the table and took the man by the hand. "You okay buddy?" The eyes, that never seemed to close, turned to Tower. The mouth tried to move, but only slight gasps came out.

"K…ki…" The man made clicking sounds, and Tower listened intently, trying to discern what he was saying.

"Oh my god!" Wilkes gasped. "I didn't…I didn't think it was possible." Tower looked up. "They were trying to graft tissue from some of the alien species, resistant to infection and abrasion, onto him. They also tried to perform behavioral augmentation, you can tell because of the chip they tried to shove into his head." Anderson's eyes never left their focus on Tower. "He's gone. I mean, he's alive, but he'll never be able to function again."

"K…K…" The clicking sounds continued, and Tower tried to make sense of what he was saying.

"What is it man?" His fingers began to move, erratically, spasmodically, as if trying to imply the seriousness of what he was saying.

"Kill…kill me. Puh puh…please." The mouth finally formed the words. Tower shook his head, tears almost forming at the corners of his eyes. How could they do this to a fellow human being?

"Nah, man. We're gonna get you out of here, get you patched up." But the malfunctioning man feebly shook his head.

"Kill me." He chocked. Wilkes came to Tower's side and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Tower… He wont get any better." Wiping the infant tears from his face, Tower stood. Wilkes rummaged through a glass case, pulling out a needle and two bottles of medication. Mixing them together, in a lethal dose, he injected the death-dealing cocktail into Anderson's arm. "Just relax."

The man closed his eyes, and the fear and pain seemed to leave his body. He convulsed slightly as the mixture wreaked havoc with his internal organs, and finally he fell silent, exhaling one last breath.

"These bastards are worse than murderers, their monsters." Tower whispered, his eyes still fixed on the dead figure.

"We need to go, Tower. Jackson is waiting for us." Wilkes walked past him and out into the hallway. Tower brought a gloved hand to the man face and closed his eyes. Another good man to the fire. Wilkes stood at the doorway, waiting. "We need to go." He repeated. But as the words escaped his mouth, the equipment and the lights flicked and puttered, finally dying. Almost instantly the corridor outside was lit by red lights, a blazing klaxon spouted out gibberish in the distance.

"What the hell now?" Tower exclaimed with exhaustion, he couldn't take any more surprises.

"Wait, wait. This could be a good thing." He tapped his PCV and spoke, but not to Tower.

"Jackson, you there buddy?" In his ear he could hear the sound of gunfire, and was worried for a moment that Jackson had gone down. Finally the bullets stopped flying and Jackson's gruff voice greeted him.

"Yeah, we're okay. I have the doctor and Sherlock in tow." Wilkes' brow furrowed.

"Sherlock?" Jackson grunted.

"It's a long story. Anyway, we'll meet you at the elevator, wait for us to come to you." Wilkes was confused.

"How are you going to get down to us? And how did you shut off the power?"

"Just trust me. The cavalry's finally come."

X X X

"Captain Orlov, SEAL Team six." The man was dressed in a blue jumpsuit, his face masked by black paint, a Heckler and Koch MP5 dangling from a three-point restraint. As Jackson had entered the corridor from the holding room, he had found himself literally in the middle of a firefight. To his right, the Navy SEAL team had brought several boxes up for cover and was firing at Black Ops to Jackson's left. Picking off several himself, the fighting finally ceased. The captain of the SEAL team, a tall lanky man that didn't look the part of the mythical SEAL, outstretched his hand. "You must be Sergeant Jackson. Colonel Dostovaya said you were being held captive." He looked at the well-used rifle and cracked a smile. "Well I guess captive isn't the right word to use." He looked at the doctor and the alien, who slightly perturbed him, but to Jackson's surprise, didn't alarm him. Had they come in contact with these docile forms of alien life recently?

"How did you know we were here?" The captain signaled for the rest of his team to come forward, out of cover.

"Colonel Dostovaya has the rest of the 501st, as well as various units of the SEAL teams, Delta, and Rangers, are holed up in a secure location. We've been listening to radio communications for the past several days and finally got a break at your location." Jackson understood that letting their location slip could mean a disaster for the people in hiding. "Is this all of you?" He gestured to the doctor and the alien. Jackson shook his head.

"Two more men from the 501st. How many of you are there?" The captain tapped a radio attached to his neck and radioed that he had found the doctor, who seemed to be of some importance.

"Okay, Doctor Bennett, I'm going to have you follow these two men out of here. Sheckler, Johnson." Two of the SEALs walked forward. "Get him topside." They nodded and lead the doctor towards a stairwell.

Tapping his radio again, the captain spoke into it. "Romeo Echo One. This is Rhino commander, we've secured the doctor, and are preparing to extract two more marines before we head topside." The radio crackled to life.

"Affermative, Rhino one. Charlie and Delta teams report little resistance; they must have been clearing out before we came. Get your men and get out." Captain Orlov nodded and turned to Jackson, Sherlock at his side.

"Where are your friends?"

"One level down." The captain ushered for the remained four men under his command to pull forward, towards the elevator.

"Well, lets retrieve them, shall we?"

X X X

The red light that the halls were drowned in didn't help the soldiers' vision. So when bullets spattered against the wall next to Tower, he could barely tell where they had come from. He and Wilkes took cover on opposite side of the hallway, in the relative safety of the doorways. Quickly pointing his rifle down out the door, he shot blindly at his enemies, hoping to at least scare them. Wilkes looked over from his side of the hallway and brought two fingers to his eyes and then holding up another two fingers with his other hand, signaled he saw two operatives. More gunfire ensued as the black ops tried to pick off the marines.

Stepping out into the corridor, Tower saw the two men kneeling at the end, reloading. Taking his chance, he dropped to the ground and pulled off two shots, hitting one in the chest, dropping him immediately. The other took notice and scrabbled behind the corner, letting off shots as he dove. One of those shots caught Tower in the shoulder, but only grazed him slightly.

The marine grunted and Wilkes rushed to his side. "I'm okay, I'm okay." More gunfire roared as the operative peered around the corner. They were at a standstill, and Tower didn't know how they would make it around the corner.

"To the void with you!" A voice, not unlike that of their alien companion, cried. Behind the corner, the walls lit up bright green and the sound of the operative letting off several shots pierced the air. But the crackling of the air, and the blast of superheated plasma that was ejected from the vortigaunts body drowned it out. The lightning strike went straight through the man, leaving a charred hole where his midsection once was. The operative fell to the ground, his chest no longer moving.

"Tower, Wilkes, that you?" Jackson called out from behind the corner. The two rounded the corner to find the lumbering form of the vortigaunt and Jackson, accompanied by a group of men dressed in blue jumpsuits. Jackson smiled broadly and ushered them to follow. "We were wondering what had happened when we didn't find you waiting for us, come on, we're getting' the fuck out of here." The leader of the SEAL team introduced himself and lead the men to the elevator. Spurts of gunfire could be heard overheard, but it had quieted down considerably since the fighting began.

"We're getting out of here. We have several birds waiting outside."

"Where are we going?" Wilkes asked, relieved they would be making it out of here.

The captain frowned. "I'm not at liberty to say. Wait till we dust off. Just know you're with friends." The elevator shuddered to life and quickly began to rise, taking the marines onward and upward, to freedom and a brave new world.

The elevator rumbled to a stop at the surface level and the Navy SEALs pushed them forward. The sun was setting over the rugged, crimson desert of New Mexico, and the wind was kicking up the dust. But Wilkes realized it wasn't the wind kicking the dust around, it was the beautiful sight of five Black Hawk Helicopters, all primed and waiting to leave. Another SEAL met them at the exit of the hanger.

"Come on!" He yelled over the roar of the rotary blades. "You're the last ones! We're getting out of…" But the soldier didn't have time to finish before a bullet was lodged in his forehead. The SEAL team and the marines turned and found that the Black Ops had not given up so easily.

A trio of the black assassins had managed to find another way out of the facility and were laying down fire from the back of the hanger. The SEALs took positions behind cover and began their counterattack. Tower and his comrades were too far to the other side to join the SEALs behind their cover and moved to find their own.

Sherlock brought his hands out in front of him and brought his head down, a growl expelled from his alien throat. The air around him grew hot, filled with static electricity. He gathered the charge and summed it up, manifested as a green glow, and let loose its fury.

"You who are not worthy of consciousness!" He screamed. The beam connected with one of the men and he fell dead. The other two took noticed and trained their sights on the alien.

"Get back here!" Jackson called from behind a stack of crates. The alien tried to run, but in the harsh tug of earth's gravity, he slipped and fell.

Jackson swore. "Cover me!" He dove from behind his cover and pulled the trigger of his rifle several times, hoping to buy him some time. He grabbed the alien by his flesh hand and began pulling him to safety. Struggling to his feet, the vortigaunt scrambled for the crates, but one of his peripheral eyes saw the black operative take aim at Jackson. In a split second response, the alien pulled Jackson aside and thrust his own body in his place. The 5.56mm round found its mark in the vortigaunts back, ejecting yellow blood from the wound. The alien hissed and collapsed to the ground, his breath labored. "Oh goddamnit!" Jackson yelled. He drug the body behind the crates and turned him over. "Come on, don't die on me!"

One of the SEALs popped a grenade and threw it behind the black op's cover. The men yelled and moved to escape but were either picked off, or engulfed in the ensuing inferno.

"Doc! Doc! Come on, he's hurt, can't you do somethin'?" Wilkes knelt beside the alien's body and fingered the wound, his hand coming back sticky and yellow.

"I don't know." He replied calmly. "This is an alien species, I don't know his anatomy." Jackson slung the limp figure over his shoulder and carried him out of the hanger, following the SEALs to the helicopters. If anyone could help revive the creature, he knew the doctor could.

The other two marines followed Jackson and exchanged glances that spoke of their surprise at his change of heart towards the creature. Jumping onto one of the Black Hawks, they could see Jackson and the doctor probing the still breathing body of the alien in the helicopter next to them. The pilot signaled for them to strap in, they were taking off.

Tower crashed his exhausted frame into a seat and strapped a harness on. He let out one last sigh, grateful to the deity that had seen them through this horror. As the helicopters dusted off, Tower looked down towards the hanger, and as it faded into the distance, he could have sworn he saw a man, dressed in a blue suit and sporting a briefcase, watching the planes escape. He brushed it off as a hallucination caused by the exhaustion.

**A/N: So, whatcha think? I haven't had much Shephard since I wanted to follow the timeline that spanned from right after the Black Mesa Incident, up until the 7 Hours War. Besides, I thought it would be fun to play around with the other characters a bit more. But don't worry; you'll get your Adrian Fix soon! Please Read and Review! They keep me going!- Blind**


	6. A Scorched Earth

-Shephard's Story-

-A Scorched Earth-

Dusk finally gave way to the night as the helicopters traipsed the desert landscape. Wilkes had nodded off several hours ago, and Tower was beginning to wonder just where their flight was bound. Rising from his seat, he made his way to the cockpit and sat in the empty co-pilot's seat. Picking up a comset, he plugged it into his ear and asked the pilot where they were going.

"So where the hell are we?" The pilot checked his instruments.

"About ten minutes away. About five hours from the border of Mexico." They were in Mexico? But

Tower surmised it was probably as good a hiding place as any, the 501st was most likely not very popular with the rest of the American government right now.

"How many men does the colonel have under his command?" Looking out the window of the helo, Tower could see great pillars of rock shoot up into the sky, obscuring deep valley's below. Besides being beautiful, this area was perfectly suited for a strategic hiding spot.

"After retreating, the Colonel and the survivors hauled back to base, before Uncle Sam could catch on. There they hooked up with the rest of the 501st. There were several squads of Navy SEALs, Delta, and Rangers, on reserve in case something came up, they hitched a ride with Destovaya. All in all, the Colonel has some two hundred special Ops repatriated, not counting the stragglers." Tower frowned, obviously confused.

"What stragglers?" Under the black glasses of the aviator's helmet, the pilot smiled, as if privy to some inside joke.

"You'll see when we get there, which should be right about now…" In the darkness, Tower could nothing illuminating it, no sings of human life, save the other helicopters hovering nearby. "Oh you can't see it from here."

The pilot pushed forward on the stick and the helicopter descended towards the ground at an alarming speed. Tower grabbed hold of a bar to his side and gasped. The pilot laughed as they neared the black Earth, and Tower felt for sure that the man was mad. As they came nearer to impacting, the pilot leveled out and the vehicle flew over a large fissure in the ground, visible only from close up. It ran the length of the valley they now occupied and was just wide enough for the helicopter to descend inside. As they made their way through the crack in the crust of the Earth, Tower could now see the 501st's new home.

Deep in the canyon, a small settlement, surrounded by barbed wire fences and bathed in the fluorescent glow of searchlights, buzzed with activity. Several structures, all plastic, prefabricated by the military, dotted the floor of the canyon, and Tower could see men running two and from each compartment.

"The canyon hides us from detection, shielding the heat signatures of all the generators we need to power this place. None of the spy satellites the government has could see into the canyon, even if they knew where to look." The helicopter continued to descend as the pilot radioed to his cohorts to watch their flight path; it wasn't so spacious in here.

The rock walls of the canyon gave off ghostly glows and created sinister looking shadows in the glow of the camp's light. A man with two bright orange rods stood at the end of a makeshift helicopter pad and waved the helicopters to safety. Tower took notice of the other planes descending and kept an eye out for Jackson. As they landed, he could see the old marine's form and that of the doctor's rush from their helicopter, followed by several of the SEALs hauling the inert form of the vortigaunt on a medical stretcher.

Captain Orlov jumped out of another helo and made his way over to Tower, who was rustling Wilkes awake. Slinging his MP5 behind his back he pointed in the direction of one of the short plastic structures.

"Colonel Destovaya wants to see you." Tower nodded.

"What about the vortigaunt?" Wilkes asked. The SEAL frowned and turned towards another structure, a large red cross emblazoned upon the side.

"The doctor was able to stabilize him in the air, but said that it wouldn't make it without the proper treatment." He cracked a smile, and seemed to laugh to himself. "Whatever the proper treatment something like that _is_."

Tower scrutinized the barbed wire fences, and the guards walking the line, SAW-249 light machine guns tightly gripped, almost nervously.

"Why the tight security? Expecting the government? I was told they had no clue where we are." The SEAL shook his head and again pointed towards the lone plastic structure near the side of the canyon.

"The colonel will explain everything." Tower and Wilkes nodded and the captain left them, running off in the direction of his comrades.

The two marines made their way to the plastic tent the SEAL had shown them and knocked on the flimsy door before entering.

"Da, come in." The harsh Russian accent of Colonel Dmitri Destovaya greeted them. Standing tall at six foot and seven inches, his black hair cut short, but still skirting marine regulations, there were many rumors that surrounded his past. The most popular was that he was originally part of the red army, but was offered a place in the American armed forces if he were to defect and give up valuable information. His Russian origins were no secret though, as he would common resort to using his old tongue in cases of extreme anger.

The two marines entered and found the colonel behind an equally looking flimsy folding table, a laptop and scores of folders covering his workspace. The man had been resting his head in his hands when the two marines entered, but upon seeing who they were, he stood straight up and came around to shake their hands.

"Comrades, good to see you, good to see you. Congratulations on making it out alive, and I hear you were instrumental in the evacuation of Doctor Bennett." Tower and Wilkes nodded. "But what of Sergeant Jackson? Was he not among the survivors?"

"He's in the medical tent with Doctor Bennett attending to a wounded Vortigaunt." The Colonel raised an eyebrow.

"Which one?" It was Tower's turn to raise an eyebrow.

"What do you mean?" The colonel looked almost incredulous, but then relaxed.

"I forget you haven't been around for the ensuing chaos. Maybe being detained wasn't so harsh, at least you didn't have to fully experience the aftermath of that accursed mission." Wilkes rubbed the back of his head, thoroughly confused. The colonel rubbed his hands together.

"I'm sorry, we'll start from the beginning." He pulled his laptop around to face the men and searched through several files, before bringing up a video clip. "This is Black Mesa just after the nuclear explosion." The men were shown a picture taken from space of the desert surrounding Black Mesa. The Earth looked charred and black around the edges of the base, and a large gray smoke cloud climbed high, almost into the upper atmosphere. The counter at the bottom read just ten minutes after detonation. The colonel fast-forwarded the video. "And this two hours later." The smoke cloud was gone, revealing nothing more but further scorched Earth, wiped clean by the nuclear blast. But clean was not the word that could be used to describe the next shot. Suddenly the entire area was covered in thick green smog, obstructing their view of the remnants of the base. Flashes of light, like that of a lightning storm, roamed across the smog. The Colonel hit another button and the time was sped up, hours pasted in seconds as the lightning storms raged, until the smog slowly disappeared, revealing a peculiar sight indeed. A structure, standing hundreds, if not thousands of stories tall, stood where the ruins of black mesa once were.

"What the…?" Wilkes asked. The tower was the color of steel blue, and it seemed to reach so high into the sky that it would peak outside of the atmosphere, in the cold vacuum of space, the timer in the corner registered that it was seventeen hours after the detonation that this structure had been erected.

"That's what we were saying. I mean we, as in the entire world." He tapped another combination of keys and the video changed to that of a pale anchorman, his tie out of alignment, and his face slick with perspiration. He was standing in the desert, the tower a looming figure far off in the distance.

"_Are we getting a signal?"_ The camera giggled back and forth as the operator nodded yes. _"Good."_ He wiped more sweat from his brow with his dirty shirt cuff. _"We're live here from the New Mexican desert, and as you can see we have a clear picture of the alien structure in the background."_ He pointed to the tower. _"Now since the nuclear detonation we have received unconfirmed reports that the United States government at one point in time used the old nuclear silo located there for weapon research and development, but as I said, those reports have yet to be confirmed."_ Tower looked to the colonel who nodded. They had been the supplier of those reports. Suddenly the camera began to giggle, the ground began to shake, and the clouds overhead grew heavy and green, Tower recognized that phenomenon. The wind picked up and the anchorman's microphone flew out of his hands.

The atmosphere around the desert grew charged with electricity and the same green portals that had brought the vortigaunts through began appearing all throughout the desert landscape. Tower could hear the reporter scream as he and the cameraman dove for a van parked on a dusty road behind them. Slamming the door shut behind them, the camera was thrown to the floor, and the panicked sounds of the two men were apparent.

"_Go! Go!"_ One of them screamed.

"_Jesus! What the hell is that!"_ Another yelled.

"_Just ram it!"_ The camera lurched and Tower saw the body of a man fall down beside it, quickly picking himself up. Banging suddenly ensued, and Tower shuddered. It reminded him of those needle chucking creatures that had scraped and clawed behind the door they had locked shut.

"_Fuck! Fuck! Start the car!"_ The anchorman's face appeared in the lens, his cheeks flushed and his eyes welling up with tears. Someone must have tried to start the car, and it seemed to putter to life, but quickly died.

"_Damnit! It wont move!"_ The scratching and clawing grew louder, till Tower heard one of the windows explode, and the men began to scream. Tower could see Wilkes shuffling and fidgeting uncomfortably, they had already experienced this. The foot of something altogether familiar came to rest by the form of the dead reporter, its clawed appendage ripping away at the human flesh. The corpse was turned over in a frenzy of hunger, and Tower saw the telltale signs of the needle creatures projectiles buried in the face of the man. Colonel Destovaya finally turned the image off, sparing the marines further discomfort.

"It's been like that all over the world. That's why even hidden as we are, we're still vigilant. In the week and a half since the incident those portal storms have been ripping across the face of mother Earth. And that," He said switching back to the image of the tower sitting silently behind a red desert sunset. "Has kept a vigilant, albeit silent, observance." Flipping another set of keys, another image was brought up.

A woman in her mid twenties, dressed in a ragged and dirty business suit, held a microphone close to her mouth. Behind her a newscast helicopter was being prepped for take off.

"_This is Sheryl Seacast reporting live from the last free zone in the greater Seattle metro area. Below the rooftops is a scene that can only be described as pure anarchy."_ She screamed over the roar of the helicopter blades. The camera swiveled and looked at the streets below. Tower nearly gasped as he looked upon the violence that consumed the city. People were fleeing from hordes of the same monsters they had faced in Black Mesa. Legions of zombies, their claws swinging wildly for their next meal, or the vicious bullsquids, their tenticled mouths writhing in anticipation of their next kill. Spurts of gunfire erupted as citizens carrying their own firearms tried to defend themselves, but for all intents and purposes the city was completely overrun. The camera came back to rest on the disheveled reporter. _"We're air lifting out right now and are fleeing to Portland, Oregon. If you have a vehicle, you are strongly urged to make your way there. National Guard members as well the Army have barricaded the city and are taking in refugees by the thousands. Do not return to Seattle, the city is lost. I repeat, Seattle is lost, do not attempt to make contact with loved ones, you'll only endanger your own life."_ The pilot waved at the reporter and shouted to her that they needed to go. _"The government has mandated that every citizen of the United States is to make their way to the nearest urban center, private residences and homes, no matter how well stocked, cannot afford you enough protection. Regular infantry is being deployed to barricade and reinforce the major cities and all overseas military personnel are being recalled to help deal with what has become a global crisis of epic proportions."_ The pilot waved again, this time more frantically, the reporter waved back, indicating she understood. _"This is Sheryl Seacast, for MSNBC News, wishing you God's speed, and good luck."_ And the transmission was finally cut.

"That was filmed three days ago, since then people have been flooding into every major city. The army has been doing all they can; building cement walls over three stories high. Then this guy showed up." The video flipped to the inside of the United Nations. The entire congress of world diplomats was in frenzy. Standing at the podium was the haggard form of the president. "This was taken just several hours ago."

"Fellow diplomats, we face a grave and dangerous time. Outside the newly constructed walls of New York City are the hungry masses of a race that is not native to this planet. The notion that we are alone in this cosmic void has been shattered in the most atrocious of ways." But Tower noticed he did not accept responsibility for the current situation. "In these uncertain times, men of intelligence, of indeed exceptional intelligence, are a necessity. With that in mind, I introduce to you the former administrator of the Black Mesa Research Facility, Wallace Breen." Instead of clapping, which was the custom of the United Nations council for any new speaker, only silence ensued. The man that interrogated Tower confidently approached the podium and leaned into the microphone, projecting an authoritative persona.

"Fellow members of the human race, I welcome you into the golden age of humanity. I know this in no way seems golden to you, but you must look beyond the current hardships to what lies beyond." A projector screen slowly fell down behind him, hosting an image of the cold blue spire. "This structure, though simple in design, suggests a higher intelligence at work than the baser instincts that govern the savage beats clawing outside the city walls." He stressed the word 'clawing' and several diplomats were seen to shudder. "I am suggesting we send in a team of political representatives to make contact with the designers and perhaps put a stop to the ravaging of our home planet. Humanity is still in its infant stages of development; our time here on Earth is as the life of a fruit fly in comparison to the evolution of the planets. For the sake of Earth, indeed for the sake of your children and their generation, we owe this matter further inspection." The man was an exceptional speaker, rallying the congregation to his cause. The colonel finally flipped the laptop closed, ending the educational segment of their meeting.

"I know that man," Tower began. "He was proctoring my interrogation. Breen said he needed to find you before you made a mess of his plans, but by the end of it he said it didn't matter which way or the other."

"Maybe this plan of his has something to do with it?" The colonel asked no one in particular. He waved the thought away and sat back down at his desk. "Now I have other matters to discuss with you. I need you to tell me what you know about Corporal Adrian Shephard…"

X X X

The medical tent was crowded, and Jackson was getting queasy just standing in it, he hated hospitals. Medics ran back and forth, as well as a few of the lab coat clad men from Black Mesa. Apparently the Marines had saved more than a few.

"I need…" The doctor began, staring down at the still form of the Vortigaunt nicknamed Sherlock. "No, the defibrillator won't work, not enough juice for this creature." The doctor was speaking quickly and erratically, trying to figure out a way to save the slowly diminishing creature from expiring. "I need another vortigaunt!" One of the SEALs nodded and quickly left the tent, returning quickly with another sickly looking green creature, almost indistinguishable from the one lying on the table.

"I felt this one's faded presence when you returned." He said to the SEAL. The alien plodded over next to Sherlock and brought both hands up to bare. The air again became charged, making Jackson's hair stand up, and the green light pulsed through the body of Sherlock, making it shake violently. When the creature did not move, his fellow vortigaunt shocked him again.

"Nahlum nakka ditti gum!" The creature moaned. The one standing next to him mimicked a smile in approval.

"Now, my friends, you have heard your first curse in an alien tongue."

An hour later, Jackson was sitting next to Sherlock in the dim light of the nurse wing of the medical facility. The vortigaunt rested silently, only the rhythmic movements of his chest an indicator of life. Jackson wondered if the creatures really had been controlled. They seemed too docile and intelligent now, not the same cruel monsters he had killed before. The vortigaunt's mouth, though filled with sharp fangs, seemed to curl up in a content smile, as if he were having a pleasant dream. Do aliens dream? Jackson asked himself. Why did he care? Because this one had saved his life, that's why. Being in the Corp. so long had made the engineer rely solely on the support of his comrades, who he knew would take a bullet for him. This creature, completely inhuman, not even of the same solar system as Jackson, had risked his life for him. It had earned Jackson's respect.

The vortigaunt stirred and all four eyes slowly opened. "Jackson…" It whispered.

"I'm here, buddy." He said softly, like he would to a child.

"Images, blurry, all cascading, no pattern, emotions, but no experience." The creature mumbled. What was he talking about? On the ride to the base, when the doctor wasn't sleeping due to extreme exhaustion, he had told Jackson that the Vortigaunts were a hive-minded race, that they shared a single communal consciousness, with independent personalities. Which was why they all learned at the same time, felt other's pain, and saw that others saw. "Freeman." It blurted out. Freeman had been the man they had been sent in to kill, apparently, the instigator of the entire fiasco. "Shephard." That caught Jackson's attention.

"Shephard? What about him?" The Vortigaunt struggled out of unconsciousness, how had he known that name? Jackson was sure that if Shephard hadn't bee killed by creatures like these, that he was surely incinerated in the blast.

"Shephard…" Jackson leaned over the alien and rustled him; he needed to know the answers.

"What do you know about Adrian?" The alien fully awoke, but did not move.

"You were the comrades of the one known as the Shephard?" Sherlock asked, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. Jackson nodded. "He and the Freeman, they are coterminous." Jackson wasn't quite sure of the meaning of that word, but had some idea.

"Shephard is nothing like that saboteur!" The vortigaunt shook his head.

"They are our saviorssssss…" Saviors? How? "They broke the bonds that shackled us to our master. They are not the cause of this, yet they take on the yolk of our burden."

"What are you getting at?" This confusing gibberish was grating on his nerves. The vortigaunt looked at him, a pleading in his eyes, begging him to understand.

"He is now one between the worlds. He lives, but at the same time he does not, his essence is dormant, waiting to be released from his void."

Jackson looked the vortigaunt deeply in the eyes. "Are you saying Adrian is alive?" The red eyes once again focused on the ceiling, finally closing.

"Yessss… he lives." And with that the creature fell back in the inviting arms of sleep. Jackson sat there, silent, stunned, for what seemed like hours.

"Jackson…" His reverie was broken by Towers low voice. The engineer turned to look and saw both his comrades, dressed in clean fatuiges, and bandaged up.

"Tower, Wilkes… I just… I don't know how to say this… but I think Adrian is still alive." Tower exchanged glances with Wilkes.

"We know." Wilkes responded. "There's more." The other two beckoned Jackson to follow them.

X X X

"Jesus, all this happened in the week and half we were gone?" Tower and Wilkes had shown him the videos. Sitting in one of the makeshift barracks, Jackson had finally cleaned up and the three had eaten. The food, though not gourmet, was far better than the gruel they had received while incarcerated.

"Yeah man, the world's gone to hell in a hand basket."

"Well what the hell are we doing about it?" Tower took a seat on one of the cots opposite Jackson.

"Nothing right now. Everyone is holed up in the cities, the aliens have taken control of the country side, and that thing." He pointed to image of the spire. "Hasn't moved one goddamn bit. The colonel said we're going to sit tight and watch Dr. Breen's attempt at contact pan out. Until then, orders are to sit tight." Jackson understood, even agreed. With all that had transpired, he could use a day or two of rest.

"You think what the vortigaunts are saying about Adrian and that Freeman guy are really true? I mean about them being the saviors of mankind?" Jackson asked. The three were still unsettled by the news that Adrian, though his current whereabouts completely unknown, had successfully battled his way to the deepest pits of Black Mesa to kill one of the alien controllers, stemming the flow of another invasion by a separate race.

"I don't know. Adrian was one tough marine, tougher than I think we know. But did you catch that shit about being 'one between the worlds?'" Tower replied. The other two nodded and the room fell into silence once more, only the sounds of the compound buzzing outside breaking the monotony.

"So what are we doing to prepare?" Wilkes asked, climbing onto the top bunk above Tower.

"The colonel is ordering a meeting with his senior staff and the rest of the black mesa staff. You're alien pal is also supposed to be invited. So I guess we'll know soon enough." Jackson kicked off his boots and his head was enveloped in the comfortable embrace of the warm pillow. Sleep had never come so quickly.

But sleep did not take tower as quickly as he would have liked. Laying there, staring up at the bunk above him, he tired desperately to quell his writhing mind. The world had changed so much in the last week, what had become of the Earth that he knew? What of his family? Would he ever see them again?

No, his mind pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind. He couldn't lose his metal now. But the thought of those creatures ripping apart the bodies of his parents and siblings sent shivers up and down his spine. The world outside this canyon haven of theirs was scorched and dying, a world on the brink of extinction, but what could they do?

Tower could only hope that the black confines of sleep would afford him some semblance of an answer.

X X X

Tower's whole world was nothing but a black void, with stars as far as the eye could see. His body seemed weightless, as if floating in a pool. He moved his arms and legs, but seemed to do so in slow motion.

"Tower." A voice echoed from behind him. Maneuvering his body around like he would while swimming, Tower turned to see who it was, but was only greeted by more blackness. "Tower!" The voice cried again, but this time it seemed to come from every direction at once. Tower knew that voice, a voice that he felt he hadn't heard in ages.

"Adrian!" Tower yelled. "I can hear you! Where are you!" But the voice did not answer him. Cupping his hands over his mouth, Tower screamed once more into the black void. "Come to me! Follow the sound of my voice, Adrian!"

"He can't…hear you, Private George Tower." A serpent-like voice hissed from behind him. Tower turned and nearly fainted when he was confronted with the image of a blue-suited man. Tower knew this man, he was the same individual he had thought he'd seen as they were dusting off from that miserable Black Operations installation. Tower was about to open his mouth when the man brought a hand up to silence him, indicating he had something to say. "Now this is very important. You and your comradessss," He stressed his s's, just like a snake. "may have successfully escaped from…black mesa, but you have obviously realized that the world you have returned to isss… very much different from what you…left."

Visions of walled off cities, of people crowding the streets, and the monsters that lurked just outside the city walls, bombarded Tower. People torn apart by the thousands, all the same, in every city, in every nation, all across the globe. Tower brought his hands to his face, frantically trying to block out the images.

"Stop!" He cried, he couldn't take the visions, they were maddening.

On command the images ceased appearing, replaced by a sadistic smile plastered across the face of the mystery man. "Now that you realize what's at sssstake, I hope you will…duly understand the importance of what… I am about to…relate to you."

An image of Adrian Shephard, his friend and fellow marine, flashed across his mind's eye. Tower could see Shephard being pulled to safety by a member of the science team, he could see him make his way throughout the facility battling aliens Tower had not seen in his worst nightmares. And he even saw Shephard standing alone on the massive freight elevator, his tired body resting up for one last fight.

"Your comrade, Corporal Sssshephard, proved quite useful. He stopped what a battalion of assassinsss… could not even stem the flow of. Without him, I would wager to guess that all that was accomplissshed would be… for naught. Which is why he is being preserved, for a time." Adrian was being held captive? Where?

The blue suited man read his thoughts, an unnerving prospect in the least. "As your… vortigaunt friend said… The corporal is now 'one between the worlds.' He has been conveyed somewhere where no possible harm can be done to him." The man absentmindedly brushed an accumulation of dust off his shoulder. "Now… which leads me into matters concerning you and your allies. The time… isss drawing nigh when you will be forced to give up all you hold dear. The years ahead will be marred with tribulation not even written about in your religious texts. But I am here to convey to you one simple thing: you must survive, you must persevere. If you do not, humanity is truly doomed. What may seem like a loss will inevitably lead to your freedom."

A form slowly materialized next to the man, and Tower realized it was the limp form of Corporal Adrian Shephard, but next to him was another man, clad in an orange and black suit, his unconscious, thin face accented by a pair of black thick framed glasses and an unruly goatee. "Remember what I have told you, you will not hear from me again." Suddenly the void began to shake, and the forms of the mystery man, Shephard, and the orange suit clad figure, all faded into obscurity. Tower could feel the void shake violently and he struggled to remain balanced as he could feel himself twist and turn with the vibrations. Finally the twisting and turning gave way to falling, and Tower could feel himself tumble into the endless abyss.

X X X

Tower's form smacked hard into the soft Earth that served as the floor of the barracks. "Tower wake up, man! We gotta move!" Wilkes was standing over him, and had obviously shaken him from his bed in order to wake him from such a deep sleep. But had he really been sleeping? Was it all a dream? Tower couldn't say for sure. Picking himself up, he turned to Wilkes, an accusing look in his eyes.

Wilkes brought up his hands in defense. "Hey man a nuclear bomb wouldn't have woken you up!" Tower rubbed he side of his head that had hit the floor and accepted the apology.

"What's going on, what the big deal?" Outside the tent he could hear the forms of two hundred men all clamoring and running about, preparing for something, or in the middle of something.

"The Colonel…well the scientists told him… aww man you just have to see it for yourself." Tower wanted to stop Wilkes and tell him about his dream, but it didn't seem like the time, or the place. He decided he would save it for another time. Wilkes bolted out of the room and into the main yard, Tower following suit.

Organized chaos was probably the preferred term Tower would have used to describe the yard. Everywhere one could look there was packing of some sort, distribution of weapons and ammo, as if the entire base were gearing up for a fight.

"They're attacking the cities!" One of the Delta Force operators cried.

"I hear they've set up those fuckin' spires in each one they've taken!" Echoed a Ranger from across the complex.

Tower follow Wilkes into another nondescript plastic structure, full of knickknacks and supplies, but on one of the shelves a small television set glowed with life.

_"This is Cindy McNamee reporting live from New Yor… Shit!"_ A Blaze of gunfire erupted from a machine gun post next to her, startling the reporter and shaking the camera. _"We're here in the midst one of many battles raging across the face of our planet, against an enemy that is completely new to us."_ Bolts of blue lightning tore through the machine gun post next to the reporter and blew it apart, splattering blood and gore across the woman, causing her to scream and the cameraman to cut the transmission. The next image was that of the city of New York, it's skyscrapers in ruins, leaning against each other for support. But rising up from the ashes of the once great city, a spire of cold blue steel desecrated the remains. Jutting high above the clouds, the tower was a menacing sight indeed.

The camera pivoted and looked down at street level, a frenzied voice narrating the carnage. _"I…I can see the streets from up here, and I'm sorry…I'm sorry to say folks that it doesn't look good. National Guard units fell quickly on in the pitched street battles, and the army hasn't been faring any better either."_ Several men in green fatigues ran screaming around the corner of one of the buildings, dropping their heavy weapons. Tower shuddered to think what could make men of steel flee with so much fear in their hearts. The creatures that rounded the corner could only, in Tower's mind, be described as crablike. They scuttled along the broken asphalt, hugging it as they descended upon their prey. The men screamed in agony as the razor sharp pincers dug into their flesh. One man, though, was lucky enough to escape the mauling and kept up his frenzied pace. _"Oh god! Someone's escaped!"_ The camera jiggled as the hand of the operator could be seen waving to the retreating soldier. _"Up here! Come on!"_ The soldier saw the man above the building and redoubled his speed to make it to him on time. The camera panned back to the creatures feeding on the bodies of the other soldiers.

Eyeing the one that got away, the crabsynths were not so forgiving. One scuttled from behind the heap of human flesh and opened its razor sharp mouth, eliciting a high-pitched screech. The man fell to the ground just outside the storefront and grasped his ears, screamed out in pain.

_"Oh no! Get up! Get up!"_ The crab creature scuttled its way over to the incapacitated man and began its feeding anew, finally the transmission was cut. When nothing repeated, Tower stood silent.

Wilkes finally broke the silence. "It's like that in every major city around the globe. As soon as Breen entered that fucking spire, the things went ape shit and started appearing out of the woodwork. The Colonel spoke with the president via satellite an hour ago. We're in the clear, as long as we get our asses to Los Angeles, where the fighting's just begun. So grab your gear soldier." Wilkes said pulling his pistol out and cocking it. "We're going to Hollywood."

**A/N: Please review! They mean the world to me!**


	7. Seven Hours of Hell

-Shephard's Story-

-Seven Hours of Hell-

The Osprey rocketed over the landscape, and Tower again found himself situated in one of the uncomfortable metal seats. But this time he wasn't concerned with his own discomfort, he had a mission, he had a purpose. With the exception of Jackson and Wilkes, the rest of the men occupying the plane were all men he had never severed with before.

Jackson leaned closer and whispered into Tower's ear. "They look a little young." That they were, they seemed to be barely out of boot, and already part of the most elite fighting force in the world. Tower kept a tight grip on his M-249 SAW, the irrational parts of his mind frightening him into believing they would be crashing again. Wilkes sat to his left; fidgeting and taking stock of his newly supplied medical equipment, he tried counting the needles and calculating how much morphine he could administer to 'x' amount of troops over 'x' amount of time, to keep his mind going and to keep his sanity. Finally he gave up.

"This doesn't feel the same. Without Adrian, I mean." The other two marines nodded. Tower had yet to tell his friends about the dream he'd had, but he didn't want them thinking he was losing his mind so close to such a pivotal battle.

Right before dust off, the Colonel had addressed the crowd of Special Operators, in what would be remembered as his greatest speech.

"_Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more." He began by quoting Shakespeare. "I am about to ask of you more than I should. Some of you have fought by my side through the terrors of Black Mesa, for others, this is simply the destination of a journey you took up when you joined my cause. Shirking my mission and giving the proverbial finger to our government was not my intention, I did what I did because I knew my country would never forgive me otherwise. We stand on the edge of an abyss, staring into the face of the grim reaper himself." The men standing around the Colonel's helicopter were all listening intently, their faces all registering the respect the Colonel had garnered in the short week and a half as their commander. "That son of a bitch wants us to lay down and die, but will we?"_

"_Sir, no, sir!" The entire base seemed to boom._

"_Are we going to let him ravage our great planet, let him drag us down into the pits of despair, where he can take all dear to us?" The entire base again responded in unison. _

"_Then let's make this our grand stand, in the face of evil. We'll show him that the human race wont lay down and die like a dog!" The men clamored and screamed their approval. Several rifle shots echoed off the canyon wall as the sun rose overhead, dawning a new day. _

Jackson was put in command of their squad, and Tower and Wilkes assigned to him. Captain Orlov addressed the marines as they bordered their transport.

"Okay marines, listen up!" He pulled a map from his vest and laid it out on the side of the Osprey. "The 'citadel', as the allied forces on the ground right now are calling it, is located right here, three blocks up from Hollywood boulevard. The Army had been able to stem the flow of their synthetic troops and contained it to the six blocks here." He said circling a group of city blocks in the middle of the boulevard. "Your mission, though, is to infiltrate this sector here." Circling another two blocks, abutting the enemy controlled territory to the north. From under his arm he pulled a yellow dossier and opened it up, revealing the contents. "This man, Dr. Rosenburg, fled Black Mesa and ended up in Los Angeles a few days ago along with another boat load of BM refugees. The others have fled, but reported that Rosenburg and them had gotten separated in the ensuing firefight. Four hours ago we received a transmission from the fourth floor of the hospital that occupies this block. He's hiding in one of the offices up there in the administration wing. We need him, gentlemen, and it's your mission to secure the doctor and get him out of harms way." He circled nine separate spots around the enemy controlled territory. "These are the LZ's, memorize them in case you get lost or separated, the rest of us are here to provide cover while the artillery continue their bombardment. Hopefully, if all goes well, we can hold out long enough for the air strike to begin. Got that?" The marines all nodded. "Good! Now get your PCV's charged and get your asses in gear!"

And so nearly six hours later, the marines were close to the outskirts of Los Angeles, and Tower cold already hear the boom, boom, of the artillery shells pounding at the doors of that abomination. Closing his eyes and trying to focus on something other than the battle to come, Tower thought about his family, and how he hoped they had made it to a safe destination. He slowed his breathing and remembered his training, a nervous marine got people killed.

What had the man in the blue suit said? Something about the trails to come. Tower would have to deal with loss, great loss. Did he mean that this battle to come was an inevitable failure? But he also said the loss would eventually lead to freedom, what did he mean? Tower racked his mind, but could come with answers to the oxymoronic prose.

Jackson tapped him on the shoulder, distracting Tower from any further thought. "Hey man, take a look outside." Tower craned his neck to look out the open door and was astounded by what he saw.

There must have been more than a couple hundred tanks, APCs, and apache attack helicopters off in the distance. The APC's and the M1 Abrams tanks were plowing a path through the debris filled highways into the city. The apaches circled overhead, protecting their flock from any airborne wolves. Tower turned his attention to the city itself. Smoke rose from the skyscrapers that still stood, though many lay on their sides, toppled by the intense fighting. Above several of the rooftops, Tower could see objects scuttling along on three impossibly long legs, their curved heads sprouting canons that spit blue death towards their enemies on the ground. And in the middle of it all, standing like a giant obelisk, the dark citadel towered.

"_We're going in hot, so lets keep this tight!"_ Tower could hear the voice of his old comrade Captain Johnson. He struggled to block the thoughts of death from his mind, but only succeeded in drawing them closer to the surface.

"Alright men, lock and load!" Jackson unharnessed himself and ordered the younger marines. "There's plenty of shooting for everyone. Remember to keep tight, and keep together, I don't want any of you going home in body bags!" The plane tipped back and forth, threatening to toss the marines about in the cabin, as they made their way into the city, through hostile fire.

Tower's ears were assaulted by the crash and explosions of the artillery, as well as that of the enemy. The plane settled down on a broken and melted asphalt parking lot. The back door of the Osprey folded down and the marines readied themselves for whatever was on the other side.

_This is it, _Tower though,_ this is where we're going to loose everything, just like he said_. Tower could see Wilkes ahead of him, holding his M4 out in front, waiting to let off a well-placed shot. As the doors finally fell and the marines were relieved to find nothing waiting for them, Jackson urged them out of the plane.

"Move your asses! Find some cover!" The marines barged out of the dark interior of the Osprey and out into the warmth of the noonday sun. Tower felt the scorching rays beat down on his skin as he followed the team between a row of burned out cars. The parking lot they had landed on was the top floor of a multilevel lot. The streets below were burned and blackened by numerous rounds of explosives. The office buildings on either side of the structure were either filled with bullet holes, or had entire sections completely bombed out.

Jackson, armed with an MP5 submachine gun, came up behind Tower and knelt down behind the still burning carcass of a Ford Expedition, its prodigious size hiding most of the squad. Jackson tapped the radio on his PCV and called for the nearest detachment of the regular army.

"Who's this!" A harried voice yelled on the other end of the line.

"Sergeant Jackson, USMC Force Reconnaissance, we're here to retrieve mission sensitive personnel from the hospital on fifth street." The comm. was silent for a few moments, only echoing the sound of giant artillery shells being lobbed at the alien structure, and spurts of rifle fire, defending the bombardment position.

"5th street?" The man sounded confused. "Someone gimme a map!" He screamed. Another moment of silence. "Oh no, you don't want to go there, that place is fucked, Alpha squad is losing ground out there fast. It's been overrun." Jackson cursed.

"It doesn't matter, we still need to get in that hospital." Jackson growled.

" Well then your best bet is to take the sewers, topside is crawling with their synth troops." Another quick barrage of artillery shells cluttered the message. "…might be filled with some of the creatures though, so watch your back!"

"What was that? Say again, you last transmission wasn't received." Jackson only heard the part about creatures, but where? He peeked his head over the railing and looked at the street below. It was war torn, but quiet, nothing vicious in sight. He anxiously waited for the soldiers reply.

"In the sewer, watch out… Shit! Henderson! Striders at four o'clock get that RPG ready!" The transmission was quickly cut off, leaving Jackson more confused that he was before.

Shaking his head, he stood up and pointed down the ramp to the second level. "Come on, we'll have to make our way to the hospital. They said that the sewers are our best bet, the streets around the target are flooded with enemy troops." The men nodded and all filed down the ramp into the darkened parking lot.

"Jesus, you can't see shit in here." One of the marines muttered. Everyone turned on their flashlights, but only succeeded in illuminating a small portion of the huge garage.

"Stay tight, keep your eyes on the man in front of you, the creatures like to hide until the last second." Jackson whispered. The men stepped lightly, their boots pattering across the concrete floor. Tower swept the muzzle of the machine gun around the darkness, his gaze ever vigilant for any headcrab or zombie that might be lurking underneath a parked car.

The team of eight made their way down to the ground level of the garage and were relieved when they could see the light of the street outside shining like a beacon in their garage hell. They made their way through the mazes of cars, many miraculously unharmed, and were closing in on the exit.

"Shit!" one of the men ahead of Tower yelled, and then he heard the thud of a heavy body hitting the floor. The ratatatat of gunfire ensued and the garage was illuminated in the flashes of muzzle fire. The men were stuck between two rows of cars, firing to the left, underneath one of the cars. "Palaski's gone!"

Behind Tower, Wilkes growled. "Move it! Move it!" He pushed Tower forward, who in turn pushed the other greenhorn marines forward towards the light. The moans of zombies, chilling the air, rang out behind them, and Tower turned his head to see.

The entire garage was infested by the undead. Trudging slowly between the cars, some sliding underneath, and others clawing their way through debris, all hungry and craving the succulent meat of the marines. Jackson at the end of the line turned and let a few rounds loose from his MP5, then screamed for the men to get out.

"Get your shit in gear! We need to move!" The men hit the ground running, dodging swipes and grabs. Tower looked to his right, behind the adjacent row of cars, and saw more of the creatures filing down from the second floor, where did they all come from? Had they hidden here when the bombardment started? Was there some intelligence left in the mutilated brain cavities?

Random spurts of rifle fire peppered the garage as the men reached the relative safety of the street. Tower's lungs were burning as he leapt from the darkness of the parking structure, out into the warm inviting day. He turned to find Wilkes and Jackson on his tail, and behind them, the zombie horde continuing their slow, but steady chase.

The other five marines had taken up shelter in a convenience store facing the garage across the street.

"Tower get your ass over here!" One of them yelled. But how would they keep the zombies from following them? Even if they ran, the creatures were sure to follow them. Jackson finally reached the street and turned to fire at the zombies.

Tower frantically looked for a way, anyway, to deter the zombies from following them. He turned to Jackson. "Do you have anything we can use to blow the door? Trap them inside?" Wilkes came up next to Jackson and fired along with him.

Jackson stopped to reload and shook his head. "We need to leave, now." He turned to run, and Tower saw the horde creeping closer to the entrance, but something shiny caught his eye.

"Wilkes cover me!" Tower ran towards the open gate.

"What the fuck are you doing!" Wilkes screamed, but when Tower didn't turn to respond, he took aim and blew the head off another zombie, yellow gore peppering the others. Tower hurried up to the gate and climbed inside the booth next to it, looking for the controls.

"Damnit, damnit, damnit! Where is it?" He had seen the bottom of what he was sure was a gate used to close the garage when it wasn't being used. If he could only find the controls to unlock the gate and let it slide down, it would buy them enough time. Outside the booth, he could head the moans and shrieks of the zombies, and he knew they were mere feet from the doors. The consol in front of him sported a computer and a security monitor, but the computer was dead. Shit, did that mean he couldn't unlock the door? He looked around the small booth and found a level to his left marked 'Catch-Release'. Tower's trembling hands closed around the level and pulled it down so hard that it broke off. The relieving sound of the heavy metal gate dropping slowed Tower's heart beat back down to normal pace, and he rested his head against the black computer screen.

The click of boots on the pavement interrupted his rest. "You did good man," Came Jackson's voice. "But we still gotta long day ahead of us." As if to accentuate that point, more shells burst in the distance, and the sound of machine gun fire accompanied it.

"Yeah… yeah you're right." Tower climbed out of the booth and followed the men down the street, tripping over potholes and charred bodies, human bodies.

X X X

"Holy shit…" The seven marines stood speechless, staring at the obstacle in front of them. Tower whistled and took stock of what they had found, impeding their progress.

One of LA's many skyscrapers must have taken a direct hit to its base, and came tumbling down. The windows were all smashed, revealing the insides of the giant behemoth. The offices, that once were held so high aloft in the Los Angeles skyline were now lying on their side, contents spilled and strewn across the street. Desks and chairs, as well as computers and other office paraphernalia were all hanging out of the broken black windows. Tower sucked in a breath when he saw the shadowy silhouettes of several people pinned under the debris, their forms never moving, devoid of life. It was truly an eerie sight to behold.

Jackson finally took the initiative and rallied the men around to the middle of the street above manhole cover. "Okay ladies, enough standing around." He said with only mild enthusiasm. "This building here is cutting us off from the hospital." He pointing behind the skyscraper, where the sound of gunfire and the pulse of the enemy weapons were strongest. "We're going to need to take the sewers, so now more than ever, you watch your back, and the man's in front of you." Jackson pried the manhole cover open and switched on his flashlight, revealing murky, stagnant water.

"That doesn't look hygienic," Jackson shot him a look and Wilkes relented. "But hey, I'm only the medic… why listen to me?" Tower chuckled and Jackson snorted, strapping his MP5 to the restraint on his chest. Holding himself over the opening, he let himself drop. Splashing into the water below, Jackson immediately drew his pistol and aimed his flashlight in both directions of the tunnel. Seeing that he was alone, he brought his hand up and waved for the rest to follow him. Tower went next, followed by the rest of the squad, and finally Wilkes took up the rear. Tower switched his flashlight and pointed it down the tunnel, shuddering as he did, remembering that these confined concrete sewers strikingly resembled those that the three of them had marched through in Black Mesa.

Tower silently hoped that Jackson and Wilkes felt the same way, and that he wasn't just a coward. But as he watched the body motion of the other marines, their quick jerks every time a crack of fire was heard overhead, and the way their chests rose and fell rapidly, almost dangerously fast, Tower knew he wasn't alone in his fears. Jackson led them down the tunnel, passing several junctions and ladders to other manholes. As they passed each manhole, light filtered through the tiny holes in the cover, as well as the sounds of the battle raging jus over their heads. Desperate pitched street battles was what this war had turned into, and Tower was afraid that humanity was losing.

_You don't think you're losing. _He could almost hear the voice in the back of his mind grin. _You _know_ you're losing, just like that man told you. It wasn't a dream, it was a precognition._ Tower wanted to scream at the voice, tell him to shut up, to leave him alone, but it was no use. Tower finally relented and focused on the objective at hand, finding the scientist and getting the hell out of here.

The group came to a four-way intersection, and the team stopped, unsure of which direction to take. Jackson pulled out his map and tried to trace what he thought their rote had been, but the map was solely for the streets.

"Shit." He muttered. "Did anyone count how many lefts we made?" The marines all stared blankly. "Goddamnit." He was beginning to become frustrated, the carnage spilling out onto the streets overhead not helping his splitting headache.

Wilkes gingerly took the map and traced his finger along it. "Hey, look here. There's a subway entrance to the street along Fifth Street." He pushed the map back in Jackson's face. "A subway needs power right?" He pointed above them to the ceiling of the tunnel, and Tower noticed a large red pipe along with a blue and green one, rusted with age, running along the length of the tunnel and heading off to the right of the intersection. "That's gotta be the main power conduit for this part of town. I think we should follow it, give it a shot." Jackson went over the map again and shrugged, handing it to Wilkes.

"What if you're wrong?" But before Wilkes could answer, a cry so horrible, so agonizing, shattered the silence. Behind the marines, the darkness began to scuttle and crawl, as the howling, nothing the three had ever heard before at Black Mesa, grew louder.

"I don't think you have time to argue!" Tower yelled as the other four marines took aim and began firing at the dark forms rushing toward them at incredible speeds. Tower knelt down and brought his machine gun up to bare as he would a rifle, and pulled the trigger. The rifle caliber rounds joined those of his fellow soldiers' and tore through the oncoming enemies. But the howling persisted, and shook Tower at his very core. The creatures finally entered the light, crawling the walls, and splashing through the dirty water.

"Jesus Christ! What the fuck are those?" One of the marines, Jenkins, screamed. But no one heard him over the roar of Tower's SAW. There was elegance in their gruesome movement, as they leap forward on all fours like a cheetah or another like predator. Their forms, though, were much more revolting than the marines had expected. The skin had been flayed from off the muscle, exposing red matter, oozing with puss and blood. Their heads were topped with none other than the most evil of creatures, the headcrabs. Tower's mind flashed red, a warning light telling him that these weren't just creatures from beyond the void, but the remnants of human beings, since in their current state, not much, save the muscle and bone, remained of their original human host.

Tower's short bursts of accurate fire changed to full auto, spray and pray, as his mind told him to end their suffering. But before he could unload any more lead into the fray, he could slowly feel himself being pulled away, and he fought against the invisible force, his vision only focused on the mutant zombies inching their way through the maelstrom of fire. Only when his machine gun clicked dry, did he realize the force pulling him away wasn't some divine intervention.

"Get up!" He heard someone scream frantically almost to the point of tears. Tower noticed there was no more fire coming from his left, the other marines had already retreated. "Please, Tower, get the fuck UP!" Tower's legs were numb, and his mind a mess of sorrow, he turned and saw Jackson pulling at his fatigues, the rest of the squad already half way down the next hallway. Tower dredged up what little will he had and bolted down the hall, the howls of the creatures reaching a crescendo as they found their way to the intersection.

Tower's heart raced as he realized how stupid he was for sitting there, dry firing as the creatures had clawed their way toward him, unimpeded. He kept his focus planted firmly on Jackson's back as they ran as fast as they could to the next turn. But what would they do? There was no where to run, and the creatures were only moments away.

Rounding the next corner, Tower could see the rest of the team up ahead, standing together under a large metal door, beckoning the other two to pick up the pace. The world seemed to slow, and Tower's legs seemed like cement, wading through gelatin. He willed himself to turn, to see death barreling straight on at him.

He decided he would smile at it. But the ground shook and Tower lost his balance, splashing into the sewer water. The tunnel grew cloudy with dust and Tower could hardly hear over the roar of the explosion. Maybe a stray artillery shell, or possible a downed plane, it didn't matter, he lay sprawled on his back, awaiting death. But as the smoke cleared Tower didn't find any hungry ravenous creatures clawing at him. For a moment everything was silent. Jackson stood still, not believing what he could see.

Dead center in the middle of the tunnel was a large metallic pillar. It had crushed through the street above, and into the tunnel below, crushing the creatures and cutting them off from the marines. Tower simply stared at the blue pillar, mesmerized by the coolness of the surface, and how it seemed to reflect light even in the utter darkness of the tunnel. Jackson helped Tower to his feet.

"Goddamn, you're one lucky son of a bitch, someone must be looking out for you." Tower nodded numbly, and strangely the memory of the blue suited figure came to mind. Someone indeed. Tower approached the pillar, and touched the cool surface gingerly, as if fearful that it would raise itself for its moorings and let the creatures on the other side loose once again. The metal was almost freezing to the touch and Tower pulled his hand away in near pain. "Come on, the subway is just through there." Jackson said pointing towards Wilkes and the others.

Tower turned and followed Jackson, but the tunnel was again rocked by another explosion. Tower steadied himself against the wall and looked behind them at another blue pillar. "What the…?" He started, but the tunnel split again as another pillar crashed through the ceiling, then another, and another, in almost jackhammer like succession. Tower and Jackson exchanged glances, and immediately turned to run.

"I'm…too…OLD FOR THIS!" Jackson huffed as they jumped through the open door and into the train station. The pillars were still slamming down behind them, and the marines ran for cover. Tower rolled behind a turnstile and prayed the objects would stop falling, and his prayers were rewarded, when the last pillar slammed through the threshold of the metal door. Pebbles of debris and chunks of ceiling crashed onto the linoleum tiling of the subway station as silence once again took hold of the marines.

Jackson stood up from behind a bench and patted his vest, trying to relieve it of the prodigious coating of dust. He grabbed his submachine gun and waited for the rest of the marines too assemble. Almost comically, without any discussion about what had just transpired, Jackson simply pointed to the stairs leading up to the street.

One of the marines opened his mouth to speak, wanting to know what just happened, when Wilkes put a hand on his arm, silencing him.

"Don't. Just…don't."

X X X

Jackson crouched in the stairway, and listened to the sounds of the street echoing off the wall to the right of the subway entrance. Only activity that seemed to be going on seemed several streets away and Jackson motioned to the others to form up behind him. Peeking his head over the railing, Jackson surveyed the street. It seemed just like another other street in the city, rattled with craters and small arms fire, and above all, devoid of life.

"Binocular's." He whispered. One of the marines unhooked a pair off of his vest and handed them to the sergeant. Jackson scanned Fifth Street and looked for the hospital. He turned and whispered to Wilkes. "It's about two blocks down on the right. It seems quiet, but…" Wilkes nodded understanding. "You and Tower take Jenkins and Higgens, the rest come with me. You take the left side of the street."

The marines nodded and formed up together. Above their heads two apaches flew through the cloudless sky, their Vulcan miniguns wailing. As the teams made their way to the street, they saw what the helicopters were firing at. High above them, another, more sinister looking, object flew by. One of the enemy fighters, looking more like a giant deformed bug than anything else, chased one apache, its nose spewing blue bolts of fire. The apache took a hit and ejected black smoke from the tail, but not before turning to fire two of its sidewinder missiles. The aerial ballet took place right over the marines' heads and Jackson ordered them to take cover on opposite sides of the street. The missiles rocketed in the enemy's direction, trailing white smoke. Just as they were nearing their target, the fan on the tail of the fighter twisted in such a way that Tower could believe it was made of metal, and the flyer narrowly missed being destroyed. The apache on its tail, though, was not so lucky, and was hit with the missiles dead on, exploding in a ball of orange and black fire. The flyer then took care of the other wounded apache, sending it crashing into the midsection of an office building, before flying off into the distance.

The marines watched this humiliating defeat with shame, realizing that they truly were losing. They hugged the storefronts and sidewalks as they made their way down the street, encroaching on the hospital. The building stood six stories tall, the largest building still standing in this part of town. The marines made their in through the emergency room drive way, and made their way among a sea of destroyed ambulances. Slowly, making sure to check each one for hostiles, the marines made their way to the front door.

"Wait." They heard Wilkes say softly. Tower turned and saw Wilkes hunkered down in the back of an ambulance, staring down at the body of a man, or what used to be a man. The lumpy mass of a headcrab was still attached his cranium, though in the early stages of controlling its host. The fingers were already growing long and slender, sharp as steak knives. And the chest cavity was red and bloated, as if something was inside, trying to eat its way out. But the form did not stir, it simply laid still.

"Come on man, its dead, lets just…" But the form leapt from its prone position and grabbed Michael, though not in a threatening manner. The lumpy, pale headcrab undulated on top of the man's head and the hands gripped Wilkes' arms with painful strength. From underneath the headcrab, the men could hear gurgles and moans, frantic, not the steady droning ones like those who were fully infected. The creature shook Wilkes, as if pleading.

But the man was cut short of relating any sort of message, with the loud report that came from Jackson's Desert Eagle side arm. The body fell away from Wilkes in a slow motion, sliding from the gurney and onto the floor of the ambulance. Jackson slowly holstered the side arm.

"You have my permission to take care of me, should that ever happen." The rest of the squad was silent, each pondering the same thing.

The inside of the hospital was covered in blood. The reception area, the front desk, the halls, all covered in blood. Several of the marines choked down their gag reflexes as they maid their way to the front desk, and Jackson tried to look for a map of the hospital.

"Hear." Tower said grabbing his canteen and splashing water against a glass frame in front of the desk, wiping the blood away. A small floor plan of the hospital was laid out, with designations for each floor. Jackson tapped the forth floor, labeled "Administration'. That's where Rosenburg is, we need to get there."

Wilkes turned his attention to the set of three elevators along the wall near the front door. Slowly he approached them, his hand outstretched, a single finger pointed out.

"Nah…" He pressed the up button, and it turned bright yellow, but h couldn't hear the sound of an elevator sliding down to greet them. "Didn't think so…" Dejected, Wilkes followed the sign that read 'stairs'.

The battle outside must have been getting louder, because Tower could hear the fighting through even the cement walls of the stairs. These, too, were covered in blood.

"The hell happened here?" He asked out loud, but none answered him. The team slowly made their way to the third floor and found the rest of the stairs blocked by fallen concrete. Tower sighed. "The simple things could never be easy, could they?"

"Murphy's law, man." Jenkins shouldered his shotgun and grinned.

"It's okay, there's another, smaller set of stairs near the cafeteria on this floor." Jackson pointed at the door with the three emblazoned on it. Tower stood on one of the door, and Wilkes on the other, while Jackson sucked in a breath and slowly turned the handle. Throwing the door open, Jackson burst into the hallway and dropped to one knee, aiming down one of the hallway, as Higgens ran in and surveyed the other end.

"We got hostiles!" Higgens fired his M4 and the rest of the squad rushed in to take up positions. A group of zombies shuffled down the hall, their sharp claws held tight against their open chests. The marines' presence excited them and they cried out in hunger, lurching down the hallway in their direction. As the marines shot down one after another, more would round the corner, replacing the fallen ones.

"This way! Come on!" Jackson led the marines down the hallway in the opposite direction of the zombies. They ran past offices and nursing stations, finally finding themselves standing at the entrance to the cafeteria. It was truly a gruesome sight to behold. The entrance looked as though it had once been barricaded, then ripped open. Tables that were once nailed across the threshold of the cafeteria entrance now lay on the ground tattered and ripped apart. The inside was a scene of vicious carnage. Tables were overturned, body lays severed and half eaten. Pools of blood covered the floor and the marines had to watch their step as they ran through, the zombies hot on their trail. Jenkins couldn't take the blood and stopped, resting his hands on his thighs and spewing yellow vomit into a pool of crimson blood.

Tower grabbed Jenkins and pulled him after the other marines. Running up a small set of stairs, the squad found themselves stopped by another barricade, this one still intact.

"Its on the other side of this thing!" Jackson yelled as the zombies began filing into the cafeteria, eagerly awaiting one more meal. The four greenhorns began slamming the butts of their rifles against the boarded up entrance, trying to pry the makeshift door from its hinges. Wilkes and Jackson took up firing positions while Tower reloaded.

Everything seemed to be moving so fast, and yet as Tower slammed another box of ammunition home, he felt as though his movements were slowing down. He fired into the crowd and chopped the zombies apart with his 5.56mm rounds. As the crowd thinned, and the four marines pried the tables from the wall, Tower was assaulted with another collective moan, this one coming from behind him. Tower turned just in time to see three of the marines pulled through the newly opened doorway by another hungry group of zombies, their screams pounded at the door of Tower's emotionally distraught mind.

"Fall back!" Jackson screamed.

"Fall back to _where_?" Higgens, the surviving marine replied. Jackson knew he was right; they were stuck between two hungry masses, with nowhere to run to. Wilkes hit Tower in the shoulder and pointed to their left, across the room. A huge observation window, looking into the cafeteria from what looked like a physical therapy lounge, stood at waist height. Tower nodded and aimed his machine gun at the window. He and Wilkes fired their weapons in unison, shattering the glass into thousands of tiny pieces. The four remaining marines all dashed for the window, but not before Jackson stopped and ripped a grenade from his vest.

As the zombie's flooded from each direction and into the eating room, Jackson waited till they formed one, cohesive group before popping the pin out. "A little going away present!" he tossed it into the fray and followed his comrades, leaping through the window and rolling across the floor. "Fire in the hole!"

The explosion ripped the cafeteria apart and sent fire and body parts flying through the open window, caking the soldiers in more gore.

"You know how to make an exit." Wilkes muttered, Tower brushed himself off and grabbed his weapon.

The marines waited for what seemed like hours, but what most likely only amounted to a few moments, to see if any more of the undead were on their way. As the air grew quiet, save the noise coming from outside, the men were able to relax, and Jackson lead them down another hall, one that was parallel to the cafeteria, and up the alternative flight of stairs.

The administration floor must have seen less violence, and was considerably cleaner. The offices seemed to simply be empty, as if it were a quiet Saturday afternoon. Tower mused, it was Saturday, if remembered correctly, but it was anything but quiet. The marines looked into each office, carefully scooping them out for the rogue scientist.

Tower was about to leave one of the offices when he heard the faintest sob. He turned and listened closer, trying to pinpoint where it was coming from. It grew louder as Tower looked under the desk, though it seemed empty. Abutting the wall, the ordinary brown desk seemed bland, devoid of any personal effects. But Tower could still the sounds of weeping and sobbing, so he craned his neck and looked under it. Tower almost jumped out of his shoes when he looked into the darkness of a vent underneath, and saw two eyes staring back.

"Whoa!" Tower fell back and landed on his ass. The eyes grew wide and the sobbing turned to screaming.

"Please! Please I beg of you! I've seen…I've seen…so much…death. So much death." Out of the darkness, two pale hands stretched out, and the image of an equally pallid face, accented by wire frame glasses and an unruly beard came into the light.

Tower reached in and hauled the man out of the impossibly small vent. Tower wondered how he could fit himself into such a small niche, but when realized that if the man must have been hiding from the zombies. His heart swelled with pity for the poor, gibberish-spouting man. Tower pulled him into the hallway and signaled to the rest of the team that he had found Rosenburg.

"It's okay, doctor Rosenburg," Jackson said, trying to comfort the jilted man. "We're here to help. We're going to get you out of here." The man wouldn't meet the sergeant's gaze.

"Barney, Barney. I told him, I told all of them. I couldn't leave so many sick people here. They couldn't stay, they had to leave." The man cradled his head in his hand, moaning in pain, as if assaulted by a horrendous migraine. "But I, I had to stay here." Wilkes looked the doctor over and nodded to Jackson, he was okay.

Jackson rested his hands on the frail doctors shoulders. "Doctor Rosenburg, what happened here?" Jackson had meant the mass of zombies. The doctor clenched his fists over and over again, his eyes narrowing to glares.

"That _damn_ Wallace. Damn him! He's doomed the entire human race." Jackson had no clue what the man meant, Wallace Breen was dead, he had seen the reports of his disappearance into the alien facility.

"But Dr. Breen is dead." He tried to sooth the doctor, who only grew more frustrated and pushed Jackson away.

"You have no idea! The race of beings we're dealing with aren't mindless meat eaters! They're cunning, methodical, insidious, and Wallace has conspired with them! He's handed the human race over them on a silver platter!" The man was shaking his fists and seemed like he was on the verge of a meltdown. Tower tried to remember his interrogation with the Doctor, and the odd message he received right before he left.

"_My word, I expected more warning…Yes I understand, but are you sure everything is prepared?"_ Tower had wondered what the doctor had been referring to, now he was more than clear. Rosenburg was right, Breen had opened the door for the enemy.

"_Sergeant Jackson, this is command, give sitrep."_ Jackson's radio interrupted the conversation.

"Command, this is sergeant Jackson. We have the subject in our custody, request evac information." The radio was silent, and the team was scanning the hallway in both directions, fearful of another zombie attack. Finally the radio sputtered to life.

"_Sergeant Jackson this is command. Message received, proceed to the roof and await evac, Osprey's under cover of hunter killer apaches will arrive shortly."_ The radio summarily went quiet again. Jackson pointed back to the stairway.

"Lets go, we're almost home free." But the doctor refused, trying to struggle against Tower's hold on him.

"No! No! The creatures are that way!" Jackson grabbed the doctor by the shoulders and looked into his eyes, trying to calm the frantic man down.

"Doctor, doctor! Calm down, please! We took care of the zombies." But the doctor didn't stop struggling, and the hallway in the direction of the stairs began to shudder.

"Not the zombies, you imbecile!" He pointed behind Jackson. "Them!" Down the stairs came flooding the same synth creatures the men had seen on television.

"Whoa! Shit, fire, fire!" Higgens screamed and dropped to his knees, unloading the M4. The creatures scrambled down the hallway, their maws open wide, revealing needle like teeth. Their crablike forms piled on top of each other, all looking to get a taste of the action. Tower dropped to a prone position and aimed the machine gun indiscriminately down the hall, and let his trigger finger do the rest.

"They're blocking our way to the roof access!" Wilkes bellowed over the roar of the firefight.

"There's a freight elevator on the other side of the floor! It should still be working!" The doctor yelled into Wilkes' ear. Jackson pulled two grenades from his belt and pulled the pins.

"One… two… three!" He through them down the hall and signaled to everyone to get moving. Wilkes unholstered his pistol and handed it to the doctor on the run.

"Know how to use one of those?"

The doctor pointed the pistol behind them and pulled off several rounds, two actually lodging themselves in the creatures. Wilkes nodded curtly and braced himself for he knew what coming.

The corridor rocked with the explosion and the marines dodged the flying remains. Blue goo covered Jackson's back and most of Tower's left side, but they had bought themselves some time. Continuing their trek through the administration wing, Jackson was relieved to find the freight elevator standing unharmed behind a nondescript office door. Running up to it, he nearly slammed the up button with the full force of his body. The button turned bright yellow and Tower sighed when he heard the machine groan and begin to move, albeit painfully slow.

"Come on, come on, come on!" Higgen's coaxed the machine, holding his 9mm pistol close. Tower could see the office cubicles begin to move, then collapse, as the creatures finally caught up to them, Tower looked through the grating that served as the door of the elevator and saw it steadily making its way up, but it was still two stories below. "Jesus Christ, we're never going to make it!"

"Shut up! Keep your shit together, Higgens. That's an order!" Jackson slapped the last clip on his belt into the MP5. He knew thirty rounds would never do it. "How much you got left, Tower." He knew that Tower's machine gun would be their only saving grace.

"My last belt, too. Only about fifty rounds." But Tower wouldn't let that get to him. He had survived too much to let this be the end. He turned around and again checked the progress of the elevator. One more story to go.

"Here they come!" He heard Wilkes yell. Tower turned and saw the last cubicle wall fall under the weight of the synth soldier, who slowed his movements to a slow and methodical pace. The creature was downed by a burst of fire from Jackson.

"Twenty-five." He whispered the number of rounds left to himself, trying to make sure he made his shots count. The creatures crowded into the threshold of the doorway as the team fired. Thankfully they had to enter through the door, which bottlenecked them made it easy for the marines to concentrate their fire.

Though all the bullet fire in the world could not have staved off the hungry creatures piling in around each other. Several maneuvered their way through, and entered the small room, only to be obliterated by Tower's bursts of machine gun fire. The marines had their backs against the wall, quite literally. As the creatures began to get a foothold, more and more began to evade their fire and scuttled too close for comfort.

"Oh god! We're fucked man!" Higgen's weapon ran dry and he fired his pistol pathetically at the oncoming horde. Tower was leaning up against the elevator door when it opened and he fell inside.

"Come on, guys!" He yelled, trying to aim his weapon to give them some cover fire. The other four piled inside and Jackson hit the close door button, sliding the metal grate down. Unhindered by any more rifle fire, the creatures swarmed into the room and bashed up against the grate, causing it to shudder. But it was too late for them, because the marines were finally on their way to the top.

Jackson leaned up against the side of the freight elevator and sighed. "This is it. I quit, I'm way too old to still be doing this shit." Wilkes chuckled slightly, still shocked himself from what just happened.

"I'm out." Tower dropped the machine gun onto the floor of the compartment. Jackson did the same, then reached for his desert eagle.

"Me two." The doctor squeaked. Tower looked up through the roofless top of the elevator and saw the doors that would lead to the roof. A ray of light peeked through the sit in the middle of the double doors and Tower exhaled, tremendously invigorated by the prospect of getting out alive.

The elevator shuddered and stopped, the grates opening to the double doors, and freedom. Tower readied his pistol and placed a hand on the doorknob. Quickly opening it, he rushed out, followed by Wilkes and then by Jackson and Higgens. They swept the roof and to their dismay, couldn't see any sign of the transport Osprey.

"Well what the hell now?" Higgens said, taking a seat un top of a small air-conditioning unit.

"They'll be here. Give them time." Jackson reassured them, pointing to the helicopter pad not ten feet away.

"Yeah well lets hope in the mean time we don't have anymore visit…" But Higgens was cut off when the dust that covered the roof began to stir in the wind, though it was too sudden, and too powerful to be the wind. Tower looked up and was greeted by the same enemy flyer he and the others had seen just an hour ago. It silently flew across the sky, its giant fan thrusting up dust and debris. It flew straight over the hospital roof and the marines took cover behind the large ventilation unit nearby.

"Stay out of sight doctor! Get back behind the door!" Wilkes yelled.

"What's going on!" The doctor inquired, but he was answered when the flyer flew close enough to target the roof, and began firing. Blue rays of dead slammed into the concrete around the soldiers, but none took any hits. The flyer rocketed overhead and flew around for another pass, this time with the marines insight.

"Damnit! Nothing we have can touch it!" Jackson grunted. The marines scrambled from their hiding place and back across the roof, towards the elevator. But they weren't fast enough, and the insectoid aircraft's canons began their steady rattle again. The ground behind the marines was again eaten up by the fire, and Higgens turned just in time to see it come dangerous close to his heals.

"No!" He cried. But the firing was stopped short as the flyer above their heads burst into flames. The marines stopped short of their destination and turned their heads to the sky. The orange ball of fire that had once been the enemy fell through the sky, a burning heap of rubble.

"Hell yes!" Jackson screamed as an apache flew through the trailing smoke. Behind it was another, which was followed by third. And trailing directly behind them was the tan colored Osprey transport. "Thank god!"

Jackson signaled for the doctor to follow them and they stood at the outskirts of the helicopter pad, waiting for their ticket home.

_But would their be a home to return to?_ Tower wondered. He surveyed the devastation that choked Los Angeles, it was obvious the city was lost. His heart sank at the prospect, how many other cities had been liberated? He could see the towering spire, not far off.

"What the hell is that?" Jackson yelled over the roar of the Osprey's twin engines as it slowly landed. He pointed towards the citadel. "What's that ring around it, and is it moving?" He was right, a fence of sorts, made of the same cold blue metal, expanded out in a circle around the base of the tower. Periodically parts of it would rise from their entrenched positions and move forward incrementally, destroying buildings and swallowing up whole city blocks.

"Jesus it looks like it's eating the city!" Tower realized that fence must have been the thing that had saved them from the zombie attack in the sewer. It was slowly expanding and gobbling up the city of Los Angeles, but for what? Resources? Defensive capabilities? Tower didn't have long to contemplate, at the Osprey finally landed and the back door slowly fell open in the hydraulic hinges.

"Well I'll be damned!" Colonel Destovaya exclaimed as he jumped out of the cargo hold. "You actually made it! You seem to have a knack for the difficult missions." He patted Jackson on the shoulder, then turned to the doctor. "Dr. Rosenburg, its good to see you're safe and sound." The doctor nodded and attributed it to the marines.

"Sir, what's the status of the counter attack?" Tower's heart pounded violently in his chest, he couldn't wait any longer. The colonel's smile quickly faded and he ushered the men aboard the plane.

"Pilot, dust off, now." The colonel said into the headset attached to the side of his face. The doors began to close and the plane took off, surrounded by the apaches.

The men took their seats, the uncomfortable metal feeling like soft silk under their war weary bodies. The colonel took a seat next to tower and leaned close.

"All of our artillery positions have been overrun." Tower suppressed a frown, trying to stay emotionally neutral. "The bombers that were supposed to be here three hours ago are now lying in pieces over the Nevada desert. Son, we've lost." Tower wanted to cry, wanted to shake the colonel and tell him that he couldn't give up.

"What about the president? Can't he rally what's left of the allied forces for one more attack?" Tower whined, his emotions betraying him. The colonel frowned and shook his head.

"The united nations has been destroyed. These are no allied forces anymore. The human race has officially surrendered." The colonel placed a hand on Tower knee, squeezing it. "But don't you worry, we'll get these bastards." Tower stood up and went to the open door, he had to see it. He had to see humanity's retreat.

The city lay in flames, the aliens controlled it now. The sun was setting in the background, but Tower could still see the men on the ground. The APCs and tanks that had once crowded the highways now trickled out in small rivulets, desperate to get out alive. Tower leaned his head against the cold metal of the door.

"How many of the 501st are left?" Jackson whispered. The colonel leaned back and stared at the ceiling.

"One hundred. One hundred men." Jackson could tell the colonel was ravaged by guilt.

"Well what do we do now?" Wilkes asked.

_But I am here to convey to you one simple thing: you must survive, you must persevere. If you do not, humanity is truly doomed._ The voice of that mysterious man rang in Tower's ears, and he understood the meaning clearly now.

"We survive, we persevere. This isn't the end, not by a long shot." He looked Jackson in the eyes, then Wilkes, and finally the colonel.

"Hey, I couldn't have said it any better." The colonel smiled.

"Count me in." Wilkes mock saluted Tower.

Jackson pulled a hard pack of cigarettes from his vest pocket and lit one, sucking the smoke in. "I hope you've got a good plan." The colonel nodded. "Good, because I don't plan to die anytime soon." The others smiled, and even facing the grim destruction of every bastion humanity had upon the Earth, the feeling of hope still persisted.

Though it would be ten long years before that hope would be realized.

**A/N: So how did you like it? Enough action? Read and Review! Thanks for all your support! Expect to finally find out what happens to Shephard in the ensuing chapters!**

**-Blind**


	8. The Long Sleep

-Shephard's Story-

-The Long Sleep-

The weightlessness of the black void was the most unsettling part. He didn't know how long he had been here, or even how he had come to be here. Adrian lifted his hands to his face and felt the stubble, the stubble of several days without a shave. His gloved hands felt along his body, touching the PCV and his white fatigues, soiled with blood.

Who's blood?

The events flooded his mind once more and Adrian cringed in agony. Black Mesa, and all the horrors contained therein, reintroduced themselves to him, and Adrian screamed out in terror. Each bloody scene, the realization of betrayed, it all came swirling back to him in one instant, and it was too much to bear. Had Adrian the capacity to drop to his knees, he would have.

"Now that you have been reacquainted with all the factssss…Corporal Shephard, don't you think it's time we get down to busssiness?" That voice, Adrian's mind yelled, you know that voice. In the black void, the hazy outline of a human being, a sharply dressed human being, slowly appeared. He stood several feet from Shephard, his person devoid of that suitcase Shephard identified him with. The visions stopped coming and the pain and fear was replaced with anger and hatred.

"You bastard!" Adrian spat. "Where am I? What have you done with me?" He struggled to move closer, but his legs only peddled against air, finding no solid ground to get a foothold in.

"I have done exactly what I said I would do…I _am_ a…man of my word." The figure seemedto hesitate whenusing the word 'man'. "You have not been harmed…but you have been detained."

"Detained where?" Adrian couldn't possibly understand what would warrant his captivity, had he not saved the human race from utter annihilation?

The man brushed the question off as it were unimportant. "It is irrelevant… You could not fathom the physics of it,were Ito tell you. But what you will understand is that…your time has come. Corporal Shephard your services have indeed been exemplary, and your actions commendable. But the current state of affairs that have…unfolded in your absence, call for a man with skills such as yours." The blackness of the void was shattered by an intense light, and Adrian brought his hands up to shield himself.

Warm sunlight, pure vitamin D. His feet felt solid ground and Adrian's knees almost buckled under the surprising pressure. Regaining his composure, the marine let his hands slowly fall to his sides, and squinted through narrow slits at the scene before him.

Standing at the bank of a river, Adrian could see a bustling metropolis on the other side. The sun lay high in the midday sky, and Adrian let the warm rays attack his pale skin.

"Earth is indeed a rarity among the planets capable of supporting life..." Adrian was startled by the voice next to him and quickly turned. The man in the expensive looking blue suit was kneeling down in the grass, and had cupped a small daisy in his freakishly pale palm. "So much native diversity… the amount of indigenous species of both flora and fauna boggle the mind... of lesser beings" The water ran clear and beautiful, and the metropolis nearby was alive with activity.

"Is this an illusion?" Adrian asked quietly, his hatred and anger quelled for the moment by the sheer beauty of the world around him.

"Is anything truly real?" The man asked, though it seemed more like a rhetorical question than anything else. "Do your exploits in Black Mesa truly seem like reality to you? Or the work of fiction, a wild hallucination? Is our conversation real? Or are you really soundly asleep in your bed, waiting to wake up, so this nightmare can end." Adrian couldn't understand anything the man was saying. Plucking the flower from the ground and holding it in his hand, the gman turned to Adrian and held the flower out, as if to offer it to him.

"What?" Adrian took the flower, perplexed.

"Life is so sssshort, change, it is said, is the only constant. The cycle of death and rebirth… is one that is infinite, never yielding to technology nor innovation…" The flower, which at one moment seemed alive and healthy, quickly shriveled in Adrian's hand, the petals turned dark brown and falling off and into his palm, and soon were too decayed to recognize.

Adrian, focused on the decaying flower, letting it fall from his hands, unsure of what it meant. The flower's remains fell into the river and were swept away by the current. But as the water rushed by, Adrian could see it slow down, and the level begin to drop. Soon the river was noticeably shallower and Adrian turned to his companion.

"What the hell is going on?" But the scene of beauty surrounded both of them soon began to decay as well. The grass yellowed and finally browned over, the trees lost their leaves and the clouds turned dark and heavy with rain.

"The cycle of death and rebirth…is entering another period of death. It cannot be stopped." The tree on top of the hill behind them suddenly burst into flames as the storm clouds overhead roared in anger, spiting lightning at the Earth. The riverbed by now had run completely dry and the metropolis now seemed more like a ruined ghost town. Adrian turned once more to his guide, authoritatively stepping forward.

"Tell me what's happened." The man rolled his eyes and turned to face the hill. From behind it came a wooshing sound, and the air seemed to whip in its direction. The fire consuming the tree ate it away in seconds, and nothing was left but ash. As the wooshing sound grew louder, a shape appeared over the hill, high in the gray clouds, and descended upon the two. It was like nothing Adrian had ever seen, it flew with the grace of a humming bird, yet the canons mounted on its strangely organic looking nose spoke of its darker intentions. It was soon followed by another, and another, until a whole fleet of them soared through the sky, all headed towards the city.

"A great deal has transssspired… in your absence, Corporal. The world is not… what it once was." His point was made clear as the aerial units opened fire on the city, dousing it in blue bolts of energy. Adrian could see anti-aircraft machine guns mounted on the roofs of the buildings return fire, and soon an all out war consumed the metropolis. Soon the first wave of organic alien ships, their bodies twisting and turning in unnatural ways, dispatched their opposition. As they flew off, they were replaced by more sinister looking vehicles. Like spiders crawling along an invisible web, multi-legged flying transports, their arms cradling blue containers, they flew past Adrian and the gman, so low that he feared he might be hit, and landed inside the walls of the city.

"Who are they? Why are they attacking us?" Adrian yelled over the roar of the engines.

"It would be easier to ssssshow you… than to try and explain." The man didn't need to yell, his monotone voice registered loud and clear. Without any sort of transition, Adrian found himself standing in the middle of a street, surrounded on both sides by tall buildings, all brimming with smoke and fire. The streets were host to carnage unknown to Shephard even in his military career. Multitudes of cars and buses lay overturned and charred. The street was littered with potholes and every building sported broken windows and blown out walls. All around him Adrian could hear the sounds of rifle and pistol fire, as well as explosions.

"Come on! This way, bravo squad's last communication was from that building over there!" Adrian turned, only to be relieved by the sight of another marine in white camo fatigues. The man's helmet and gasmask obscured his face, but his two comrades each ran without either commodity. Each one held their M4 carbine, but one had an RPG strapped to his back.

Adrian waved to the men, who were peeking out of a shattered storefront window, nervously scanning the street. Adrian was surprised that they weren't in the least perturbed by the sight of two men standing leisurely in the middle of the street, during such a time, with one man dressed in a business suit.

"Hey! Over here!" The men didn't look in Adrian direction, but jumped out through the window and scrambled across the pavement in his direction. Adrian ran up to them, but stopped short when the ground began to shake. The Marines he was running towards stopped in their tracks and stared behind him.

"Oh god. Striders!" The man on the left screamed. Shephard turned and gasped.

It stood erect on three spindly legs, though it moved fluidly, seemingly without effort. It's beige skin seemed unlike any metal Adrian was familiar with, and he marveled and its elegance. But the marveling quickly came to a stop when the triangle shaped head snapped in their direction, and the cannon hanging underneath it opened fire.

The blue bolts tore through the concrete, right towards the marines. Before any of them could move, the marine on the very right, who had been wearing the gas mask, was cleaved in two by the fire. His comrades, unmoved by his death, ran for the opposite side of the street.

Once on the sidewalk, the one with the RPG knelt down and unstrapped it from his back. "Levy, get me ready!" His partner nodded and pulled a missile from his pack, sliding it into the launcher. Tapping the man on the head, the marine aimed for the creature's head.

"Say good night, motherfucker!" The rocket sparked and the missile flew out of the tube. It twirled in the air, and hit the three-legged alien dead on. It ripped through the head and exploded in a ball of blue light. The three legs staggered back and forth, and the creature tottered, finally slammed into the adjacent building, becoming lodged in the third floor offices.

The two marines rejoiced and Adrian was about to scramble across the street to meet them when their celebration was cut short. Out of the sky, another fighter appeared. It circled the street, noticing the downed 'strider', lying against the building.

"Load me up, again! Lets make this a twofer!" His partner repeated the process and tapped the man's head again. As the alien flyer swooped in, cutting between buildings, it's nose cannon fired rapidly, much stronger than the strider's. Entire sections of road were nearly disintegrated as it aimed its sights at the two marines.

"You want some! You want some of this, huh!" One of the marines screamed. The RPG fired and the missile traveled what seemed like painfully slow through the air. It was headed straight for the flyer when it whipped its tail and veered to the right, missing the missile completely.

"Shit!" The one who did the loading screamed. Adrian looked back at the gman, who stood still in the same spot on the street. Adrian ran towards him, trying to get him out of the way of the fire, because without him, Adrian didn't have a clue what was going on. He still didn't.

"Hey! Hey, get over here! It's not safe!" Adrian was almost upon the man when he heard the other marines shouting.

"Use the laser designator!" The man holding the RPG nodded and switched on the red laser. The missile, which had previously been flying off in the opposite direction of the enemy, switched around as the red dot came to rest on the face of the aircraft. It twirled in an aerial ballet and slammed into the back off the enemy, completely rupturing the fan that it used for propulsion. The enemy creature swiveled this way and that, trying to regain control, but its main source of stabilization had been destroyed.

Adrian watched it with intense focus, but had yet to realize that as the ship plummeted towards the street, it came ever closer to slamming into him and his guide. Sprinting towards the man in the blue suit, Adrian prayed he wasn't too late.

"Goddamnit! Come on!" But it _was_ too late. As Adrian reached for the shoulder of the blue suit, the red fireball was already upon them, and Adrian turned his back, as if it would afford him any protection at all.

"As you can see… Man's destiny has taken a turning point. No longer is he free to do as he pleasessss." They were no longer on the street. Adrian felt the weightlessness take hold again, and soon found him immersed in the black void.

"What happened to them?" Adrian asked, referring to the men who had fought so valiantly on the streets of the doomed city.

The man shrugged. "Their fate is the same as all of humanity's. A small victory now and then… but meaningless in the grand scheme of things." The man seemed to sigh, an expression Adrian had yet to see him accomplish. "Ten years is a long time… enough time for the scars of master's whip to heal, for the taste of freedom to be forgotten… like a sweet yearned for, but never rewarded… You, though…" He gestured to Adrian.

"You remember." Remember what? Adrian thought, and what has become of the humanity? Are they truly captive of some alien race from beyond the void? "You remember what it was like to be free. To taste air not filtered by… liessss and propaganda."

"What?" Adrian snapped, this man was too vague for him. "You want me to fight off an entire alien race that all the armies of the Earth couldn't stop?"

The figure didn't miss a beat in replying. "The details of your assignment… will be revealed to you in time…" As he finished his sentence, a door of white, sliding into existence, opened to the man's left.

"Time… something which we seem… to have run out of." And with that he disappeared into the ivory door, leaving Adrian again floating in the gravity deprived void.

His heart rate immediately began to skyrocket as the darkness overtook him. "No! Not again! Let me out, you prick!" but his insults did little to keep the blackness from sucking the last bits of consciousness from him, and Adrian could again feel himself falling into infinity.

**A/N: I know its much shorter than you're used to, but I knew a lot of you were chomping at the bit for some Shephard, but don't worry, the next chapter will be the longer style you're used to! Again, reviews of how you like the story are seriously appreciated!**

**-Blind**


	9. The Glorious Awakening

Shephard's Story

-The Glorious Awakening-

The pain was so intense, so white hot, Adrian screamed out as loud as the boiling air inside his lungs would let him. His skin tingled as though singed by a hot brand, and his insides tossed and turned in excruciating nausea. Had Shepherd been in any state to survey his surroundings, he would have noticed he was far away from the weightless void, but he still hadn't escaped the blackness. His body lay spread eagle out on the side of a gravely dirt road. The night sky lay open above him, but even darker rain clouds obscured most of it, and soon the heavens opened up, and let the deluge overtake him. Adrian moaned, and curled up into the fetal position, tears forming at the corners of his eyes.

The rain continued to fall, with no regard for the haggard and beaten figure lying sprawled under its curtain. Adrian couldn't think, didn't want to, his body still burned. Every move, every breath, released more of the same searing pain. Opening his eyes towards the heavens, Shephard almost wanted to cry out for someone, anyone, to come to his aid, but the mere act of speaking precluded itself.

But the world of darkness and pain was soon illuminated to Adrian's left, far off down the road. Ignoring the pain, and twisting his head, he strained to see through his unruly and soaked hair, the lights, which made their way down the road, did so rapidly. Two sets of two, one behind another. Cars. Which meant people, which meant help.

"…help…" Adrian whispered, fighting against the agonizing pain. But the vehicles couldn't hear him, they were metal and lifeless, which is what Adrian wished he was, lifeless, an end to the pain. The vehicles continued their violent descent of the adjacent hills and were fast approaching the battered individual. Adrian brought his hands up, grunting and gritting his teeth against the soreness, in one last feeble effort to make a signal, before he became road kill.

This is it, Adrian thought, as the lights barreled down on him. Was this what a deer felt as some unsuspecting sedan plowed it into the ground? Adrian closed his eyes, and tried to accept his fate, when he heard the gravel crumble under the tough wheels, as they skidded to a stop just feet from his sprawling body. Squinting in the bright light of the headlights, Adrian tried to make out the vehicle, which seemed almost like a world war two style jeep, but his vision was still blurry, making everything hazy and fuzzy around the edges.

A car door could be heard opening, and several pairs of boots dropped onto the gravel, and Adrian could make out three distinct pairs make their way around him.

"Kto eto?" A foreign language, one Adrian was familiar with, pierced the air. A set of hands pulled him onto his back, causing him to gasp in pain.

"Ya ne znayo." A voice off to the side replied. The hands poked and prodded, searching his vest and his fatigues.

"Help…me." Adrian gasped, the hands running over his body stopped momentarily, fingering the American Flag patch attached to his shoulder.

"Eto Amerycanskee." The person tending to him said in what might have been disbelief. Did he mean American? Come to think of it, the accent of the language sounded oddly familiar, eastern European maybe.

"Nyet, nepravda." An authoritative voice from off the side retorted. The hands left Adrian's shoulder and the figure stood up, pointing at his frail form.

"Da, eto amerycanskee!" Adrian reached back up to the hazy figure, desperately wishing for them not to leave him alone out here, the rain coming down harder than ever.

The authoritative voice took several steps toward Adrian until he could discern his form by the shadows cast by the headlights. Several hands reached out and pulled Adrian from the mud, and he cried out, the pain surging up and down his back, causing his legs to buckle, sending him back to the dirt, only to be picked back up.

"Do you speak English?" That was the last thing Adrian heard as the pain took hold, sending him flying to some unknown destination of unconsciousness.

X X X

The light was the first thing Adrian saw as he came to. The pain that had wracked his body in such a foul fashion was now nothing more than a dull memory. His mind swirled, and he wondered where he was. Turning his head from side to side afforded him nothing but another bout of nausea. The room was small, the walls covered in white and gray cabinets. In the corner of the room sat a rusting footlocker, and to the left side of the examination table Adrian occupied he could make out a door, which blended almost seamlessly with the cold concrete walls.

Shephard found himself draped in a medical gown. He felt absolutely naked, like an animal without his gear. But why? Why did he feel naked with out a specific set of clothing? And where was he? Better yet, who was he? For the life of him, he couldn't remember who he was.

"Its amnesia," he told himself, "It will wear off soon." His voice was high and shrill; terrified that he had no identity. The fear of the unknown struck him like a pale of cold water, and he sprung up from his reclining position, which he immediately regretted. Pain surged up and down his back, and he moaned through gritted teeth against the pain, beating it back down inside of himself. Reaching behind his back, he searched for the source of the pain, only to find the entire length of his spine covered in gauss, moist gauss.

He jumped down from the table, his feet shivering as they came into contact with the freezing cement floor. He made his way across the small room, towards a full-length mirror in the corner opposite the door. He turned so he could see his back, and opened the gown slightly, revealing, and indeed vindicating, his fears. Up his spine ran a length of gauss, still bloody. Had something happened to him? Was his spine damaged at all? He was walking fine, so that obviously precluded any serious injury, which caused Adrian to sigh with relief. Following the length of gauss up his back, Adrian came face to face with his own gaze. He turned and brought his face close to the mirror, scrutinizing the image before him, wondering whom it belonged to. The eyes were a deep hazel, the hair a complementing black. His facial features seemed chiseled from stone, covered in a fine layer of stubble.

"Who are you?" He asked the image, but he was only rewarded with the same question he had just asked. Out of the corner of his eye, Adrian's heart stopped at he looked at the image of the open doorway in the reflection, a man standing in the threshold. Dressed in a blue suit, his skin was pale as new fallen snow; he regarded Adrian with cool interest.

He might not have known his own name, but Shephard knew that this man was someone he had dealt with before. His heart raced, and his breathing became rapid. He didn't move, he simply stared at the reflection of the man standing in the doorway. Finally Adrian mustered the courage to turn, but was greeted with a closed door, completely devoid of any dark figure. Turning back to the mirror, the same shut door greeted him.

But Adrian nearly jumped when the cold metal of the door shrieked as someone from the other side slowly opened it. Turning around, he felt helpless against what laid behind that door.

"Oh, you're awake." A heavily accented voice spoke in English. "We didn't think you'd make it." The man stood several inches shorter than Adrian, around five foot seven inches, but he seemed a great deal older. Graying temples, accentuated by wire frame spectacles, graced his face, wrinkles serving only to perpetuate the grandfatherly image. His attire, though, spoke differently. Dressed entirely in blue, midnight camouflage fatigues, he had donned a Kevlar combat vest, a silenced H&K MP5 dangling on a restraint to his side.

Adrian stood silent, unsure of how to act. The man regarded him uncertainly, finally sighing and pointing to the table. "Come on, hop up, I need to change your dressing. Adrian could do nothing but nod and comply, as he sat up straight on the table. The man pulled his gown down over his shoulders and inspected the gauss. "It's looking better today, any pain?" The man's voice had the familiar Russian accent to it, and Adrian began to feel not so much comfort, but a small level of safety around the man attending to him.

Nodding, he replied, "Just a bit, but not much anymore." The man who seemed more like a doctor than a soldier smiled slightly.

"Good, good, it's healing very nicely." He said as he peeled the old gauss off carefully, and replaced it with a dryer one. "So," He said, still attending to the wounds. "How did you come to be all the way out in our neck of the woods?" Adrian was confused, about where he was, and who he was.

"I…I don't know, I cant remember… anything." The doctor stopped rebandaging, and turned to look Adrian in the eyes, almost rather suspiciously.

"Nothing?" Shephard nodded, and the look of suspicion receded. "You don't remember how you came along that nifty vest of yours?"

"What vest?" The doctor finally tapped the last bit of gauss to the wound, and stepped back, allowing Adrian to pull the gown back up.

"The protective vest you had on you when we found you at the side of the road? Its why your back is the way it is, I had to surgically remove it to get it off of you." Adrian again touched the bandages covering his wound. Protective vest? Adrian didn't remember ever donning such a thing, not that he remembered ever donning anything, even the gown he had found himself clothed in.

"I don't remember anything, besides this," He said gesturing to the room. "Waking up here." The Doctor shook his head.

"Had to the be the water." He mumbled. Adrian's eyebrows curled in curiosity.

"What does water have anything to do with it?" The man turned to the old foot locker and opened it, exposing the lump of clothing contained within. Pulling out several garments, he laid out a pair of raggedy looking olive pants, and a beige military sweater, as well as a pair of thick socks and black boots.

"Get dressed, I'll meet you in the hallway." The doctor said. As he walked towards the door, he turned to Adrian, still sitting on the table. "By the way, my name is Yuri Pavlovich."

Adrian smiled, "Nice to meet you Yuri, my name's…" But Adrian couldn't continue.

"Adrian, Adrian Shephard." The doctor said. Adrian decided that was good enough.

X X X

Yuri shut the door securely behind himself. As he turned to face the end of the hallway, he was startled by a man sitting in the shadows, puffs of smoke rising from his silhouette.

"Christ, Sasha, you scared me." The figure didn't stir, but continued to smoke.

Flicking the ash from his cigarette, Sasha finally spoke. "How's our guest?"

Yuri sighed and pulled out a pair of dog tags. "The good 'corporal' seems healthy enough. He says he doesn't remember anything, I personally believe him. He has all the symptoms of high level exposure to unfiltered water, but on a scale I haven't yet seen, he can't even remember his own name."

The figure shifted, bringing him into the light. Dressed in blue coveralls and a tight fighting Kevlar vest, the man's hard facial features, a broad forehead, chiseled cheekbones, and short cropped gray hair, made him seem like a hardened fighter. "Wasn't there some chatter on the wire about 'memory erasure' among the Overwatch and Civil Protection units? Maybe he's a failed experiment? Wouldn't that explain the hardware he had on him?"

Yuri shrugged, "It's anyone's guess. I had the vest sent up to Stanley, but at first glance, when I was separating it from his body, there were no Combine serial markers. Besides, where would he have gotten the military fatigues? And the dog tags? Something's going on." His voice seemed suspicious, though not specifically of Adrian, but the situation at large.

Sasha nodded in agreement. "Yes, our friend indeed has some explaining to do. When he's ready, bring him down to the holding area. Until then, I'll be down in C lock, helping unload the cargo."

Yuri nodded and mock saluted. "Yes sir, general Destovaya, sir." Sasha smiled and smashed the cigarette under his boot, finally turning to walk away.


	10. Sodium Pentothal Revelations

-Shephard's Epic-

-Sodium Pentothal Revelations-

"You ready?" Yuri smiled under his spectacles, the wrinkles on his forehead creasing further. Adrian, adorned in his sweater and khaki military pants lifted a thumb up, as he shut the metal door to the infirmary. "Good, because the general wants to meet you, and he doesn't like to be kept waiting." He chuckled slightly.

Adrian's face contorted in a worried expression, causing Yuri to chuckle harder. "Oh, my boy, don't you worry." He patted Adrian on the shoulder and pointed down the hallway. "Come on."

The hallway was dimly lit, creating a eerie, horror film look to the cracked cement walls. They passed several rusty iron doors before entering into a courtyard looking lobby. A large, multi-person reception desk dominated the bottom floor, it faced a red carpet, adorned with the hammer and sickle emblem of the former Soviet Union, leading to a large metal blast door. Along the sides of the first floor were several smaller doors, each with its own label, obviously in Russian, hanging overhead. Looking up into the second floor, Adrian could see more of the same.

"What is this place?" Adrian examined the reception desk, caked in dust. Computer terminals, ancient and unused, sat like trophies of a bygone era.

"The general will explain everything." Was all Yuri said, Adrian figured that was true. Of the four doors that lined the right side of the room, Yuri chose the second from the left. Pulling out a key card from underneath his vest, he inserted it into a slot that looked newer than the technology Adrian had seen so far.

Was this some kind of base? It was obviously formerly controlled by the Soviet Union, but how long had it been? The key card slot, which had been dominated by a blinked red light, quickly turned green, and chimed its approval. A rush of air and the door slid up, into the wall, revealing a small elevator.

"Going down." Yuri spoke as the two stood still. The doors closed and the elevator shuddered as Adrian began to feel it descend. There was no counter that read off levels, so Adrian had no idea how far down below the Earth's surface they were. Yuri, who had been silent most of their journey through the facility, finally broke. "Have you remembered anything?"

Adrian shook his head; he was still clueless as to who he was, or what his story was. It perturbed him, not having a story, a life of his own. "Any clues as to who I am?" He cracked a wry smile, not expecting an answer.

"No, but I know that vest you have on you wasn't Combine technology. It's nanite technology, something they don't use in their Overwatch or Civil Protection units." Adrian took a double take.

"Whoa, Combine? Overwatch? Civil Protection? What are you talking about?" Yuri, who had been staring at the wall, turned to Adrian, unable to believe what he was hearing. Sure, Adrian's symptoms pointed to the consumption of unfiltered water, but to be completely in the dark about the currently state of affairs- indeed, of the last ten years, was impossible.

"You're not serious. You have to know what I'm talking about." Adrian simply shook his head. Yuri turned to Adrian, he didn't know exactly what he knew, how much memory he had retained, if any. "Okay," He began slowly. "Ten years back, the Combine, an alien race from another dimension, crossed over to Earth, and successfully invaded and are now our 'benevolent'," He stressed sarcastically, "rulers. Overwatch is their branch of traitor humans, augmented with biotechnology to serve as the main military presence on Earth. Civil Protection is the police force for all of the major urban centers not destroyed in the War."

Adrian didn't know how to take the news. He stood silent, only the hum of the elevator breaking the silence. He took a deep breath, summing up all the strength he had, and ingested the information. Earth wasn't a bastion of humankind anymore? His race, once thought to be the only sentient race in the universe, was now being strangled under the boot of a foreign dictatorship?

Any doubt in Yuri's mind as to the extent of Adrian's memory loss evaporated with the sight of the man before him, who projected the aura of one about to break down. Adrian's nostrils flared with the emotion he desperately wanted to vent. Yuri extended his hand out in a friendly gesture, letting it fall on his shoulder. Two tears formed at the corner's of Adrian's eyes and he hand to steady himself against the wall to keep from sliding down to the floor in a weeping mess.

"Hey, are you okay?" Yuri knew the question was rhetorical, but he was also no therapist. It probably wasn't the prudent thing to do, destroying another man's paradigm. But he surmised Adrian would have learned the truth sooner or later. Better now, in this confined, private space, than in the darkness of the holding cells, with everyone around to watch him break down.

Everyone, Yuri pondered, had the general called everyone down?

X X X

"You've got to be kidding me, Sasha. You actually brought him _back?_" Aaron cried angrily, his face contorted in a countenance of disbelief. Sasha stood in the center of the large concrete room, sitting on a wooden desk, his feet resting on a cold looking metal chair, restraints adorning the arms and legs.

"I make the calls, besides, you were out on the run. I didn't have time to hold a town meeting." Aaron, standing taller than most of the people assembled in the small room, was an imposing figure. His hair was cut short, and crawled down his face to comprise his neatly trimmed beard. Attached to his hips were two holsters, each filled, menacingly, with .44 automatic magnums.

Speaking with a decidedly western American accent, Aaron replied, "Yeah, well it's not like we're exactly in the position to be taking in strays. How do you know he isn't a Combine plant? If you haven't noticed, we haven't been flying as low as we'd like under the Combine radar." Sasha knew Aaron was right, though he wouldn't admit it.

"Whether or not he's a plant is irrelevant now, he's here." His gaze traveled across the four individuals before him, finally resting on the smallest, a modest man of five foot six inches. Unruly blond hair cascaded down his brow, and obscured his vision. Dressed in ragged jeans and a plain black shirt, his hands fidgeted inside the pockets of the soiled labcoat he had draped over his small frame.

"Stanley, any luck with the vest?" Stanley, who had been staring at the floor, adverse to the tension that normally accompanied any transaction between Aaron and general, jerked his head up in surprise.

"Her innards are definitely American, they were experimenting with nano-technology before the war. It was rumored they were using it to increase their soldier's stamina and pain tolerance. Looks like they fitted into their protective gear. It's far more advanced than what the average Overwatch soldier wears." His accent revealed his humble British backgrounds. "If you ask me, I think we should send it to Eli, maybe they can use…" But Sasha cut him off.

"I didn't ask you." Stanley grew silent; the general was obviously irked by their new guest. Everyone was, the crew all stood silently and Stanley looked to his left and right. Ivan sat in the corner of the room, brooding like he always did.

An old friend of Sasha's, before the war, Ivan was by far the largest and strongest of the group. His head completely shaved of hair, with a small barcode tattooed to the back of his neck. No one knew why, nor dared to ask. Even Aaron, with all his high talk and brute bragging, rarely spoke to Ivan. It was not as though Ivan readily tried to establish relationships either. Conversation was often limited to jobs to be done, and runs to be made. His deep blue eyes seemed fixated on the knife he held in his hand, picking the dirt from under the nails of the other.

"It was my impression, sir, that the boy was mumbling when we brought him in." Slick, the mechanic and specialist in Combine technology said in a casual southern accent. "Something about Black Mesa." Slick, small, though muscular looking ebony, woman, stood off to the side of the small group, casually wiping a nondescript piece of machinery with an oily rag. Her long, raven hair cascaded down her back and over her dirty one-piece mechanics jump suit.

Aaron's look of anger was quickly replaced by shock. "No, no, no. I don't want any of that here. He wont be bringing that 'resistance' crap in my base…"

Sasha again cut him off. "It's my base, and I'll let who I choose in." He was silent for a moment, looking as though he were pondering something. "Come to think of it, it was you, who just two years ago were trying to turn me over to the cause."

Aaron's face turned several shades of red before he replied. "Yeah, well, like the rest of us, I got wise."

"General, sir." Ivan finally spoke, in a deep, heavily Russian accented voice. "It was my understanding the Combine had raided a resistance base in the foothills around city 19. Could he be a survivor?" Ivan, who only referred to Sasha as general, hardly ever spoke.

But before Sasha could answer, Slick butted in. "No, no way. I heard they were slaughtered, no one came out of there alive."

Aaron sneered, "Yeah, those poor fellers thought they could make a dent with their measly little guerilla tactics. Shows them." Sasha glared at Aaron, but replied to Slick.

"That's what the Breen screens said, doesn't make it true." Slick nodded, but everyone knew the Combine's tactics were relentless, not to mention ruthless.

Stanley looked around; realizing one their number was missing. "What about Katya?" Sasha turned around and pulled a notebook onto his lap.

"This doesn't concern her." Was all he said.

"But sir, she's part of the crew. Don't you think…"

"She's my daughter, not part of the crew. Besides, if this goes south, I don't think she needs to see the consequences." Everyone grew silent. The general had Yuri bring the man named Adrian down to the holding cells for questioning. Though not known for his abilities in the torture chamber, Sasha wasn't about to let a Combine assassin into their home.

The door at the far side of the room chimed and Sasha looked up from his notebook.

"Looks like he's finally arrived."

X X X

Adrian composed himself, sniffling loudly as he could feel them slow their decent. The elevator finally came to a halt and chimed accordingly. The door slid upwards, revealing his welcoming party.

Everyone stood silently, taking in the sight of Adrian up and about. Sasha and Ivan had already seen him; it was them, as well as Yuri, who had picked Adrian up along the road near the base.

Shephard, nervous and jittery, slowly made his way out of the elevator, nearly forced out by Yuri. He could feel the stares of the others barring down on him, like ants crawling across his skin.

"Hello there, Corporal Shephard." The man standing in the middle of the room greeted him with a warm smile. He slid down from his sitting position on the chair and walked up to Adrian, his arm outstretched. "My name is Sasha Destovaya." Shephard took it cautiously, but at the same time filled with nostalgia, the man's name had ringed a familiar bell.

"Corporal, huh." The tall, menacing looking man next to Destovaya sneered. Sasha grimaced and rolled his eyes.

"This is Aaron." Adrian reached out to take the man's hand, but Aaron kept his arms securely crossed at his chest.

"Don't mind him, he's our very own trained monkey, without the training." A small man with blonde hair and a British accent quipped. Aaron's eyes grew wide, and the black woman standing behind him visibly suppressed a giggle. "Excuse me!" he suddenly changed directions, "Where are my manners? My name is Stanley Elrich, pleasure to meet you, Mr. Shephard. I've been looking at your vest that you were totting around, maybe you'd like to come down to my lab to maybe help me decipher some of the technology?" Adrian shook the man's hand, still perplexed by the strange group of people.

"Stanley, the man just woke up from one helluva rough patch, give him a moments rest!" The Black woman blurted out, before introducing herself. "Mah name's Slick, like oil slick. Least that's what they called me before the war. I work maintenance 'round here."

"She's our main mechanic too! Anything you can drive, fly, or otherwise commandeer, she's taken apart at one point or another!" Stanley joked. Adrian could only smile awkwardly, wondering why they had dragged him all the way down to this dank and deep part of the facility to make introductions.

Adrian hadn't even seen the man sitting in the corner until the general pointed him out. "That's Ivan Koslov. He doesn't make for good conversation but…" Ivan looked up and nodded curtly to Adrian, as if irked at wasting his valuable time.

"Good!" The general continued. "And since you've already met the good doctor, I think introductions have finally concluded!" He patted the back of the metal chair. "Please, have a seat." Adrian stared at the object, and noticed the restraints, immediately becoming hesitant. The general noticed Adrian's worried expression and made the correlation. "Oh! Don't worry! This chair came with the room, we have no intention of harming you." As Adrian approached the chair to sit down, he could see the general's gaze quickly shift to the doctor, offering him a small nod.

The seat was hard and uncomfortable, and Adrian made sure not to lay his arms or legs near the restraints. What did these people want? Yuri didn't seem at all like he wanted to harm Adrian, nor did the general, but the current situation leant itself to some trepidation on Adrian's part.

Finally situated in the chair, the general brought over another chair and sat across from Shephard. He looked him square in the eyes. "Look, we took you in because at the time, we didn't know what else to do. We may not be in the business of saving the world, but we're not stone cold either."

Adrian could still feel the stares of the others on his back; the general pulled a packet of cigarettes from his front pocket and lit one. "Your being all the way out here, far off from any form of Combine protection, is mighty strange, I'll admit. But I thought I'd give you a chance to explain, before making any assumptions of my own."

Adrian was silent for a few moments, before he realized that the general had just asked him to justify his existence, an existence he had no prior memory of.

"I told Yuri, I have no clue where I came from, or even who I am." Adrian could see the general look behind him, presumably at the doctor. "The only thing I remember was being picked up by you, then waking up in the infirmary. Now I find out that Earth's been overrun by the scum of the universe?" The general didn't acknowledge the last part; standing up, he moved his chair aside and nodded to the others behind him.

Suddenly hands fell upon Adrian and he could feel his limbs being manipulated and moved into the restraints. His heart raced and his mind exploded, what were these people doing to him? He hadn't wronged them, he didn't know where he was! His arms and legs securely tightened, the general once again sat before him, this time with a needle in one hand.

"Do you know what this is?" Sasha said hold the needle up close. Adrian shivered, he hated needles. The question, of course, was rhetorical; he had no idea what the vial contained. "This is Sodium Pentothal, otherwise known as truth serum." He pushed the plunger slightly, and little rivulets gushed out of the needlepoint, flicking the excess off, he continued. "One dose will have you high as a kite. If I find out anything you're not telling me now, that I probably should know… well…" He glanced over towards Aaron, longingly balling his fists. "Aaron has been yearning for a new punching bag."

Adrian's eyes moved frantically left and right. What was he going to do? What if he disclosed something under the influence that even _he_ didn't know he knew. Calming himself, he resigned that he had no other choice, nodding pathetically; the general inserted the needle into Adrian's vein. The plunger released the burning liquid into his veins and Adrian almost immediately felt the sting, and ensuing nausea. The world teetered back and forth, the Sodium Pentothal opening doors in his brain that had been shut tight before.

A pity that he wouldn't remember any of it afterwards.

X X X

"Now, that you're more compliant," The general began, watching Adrian's head loll back and forth in a state of euphoric bliss. "I need to know a few things."

Adrian began giggling madly. "Whatever you say, boss!"

Sasha ignored the giggling man and continued. "Is your name Adrian Shephard, a Corporal in the United States Marine Corp?" Adrian nodded, but didnt seem to even comprehend the question. "Are you in any way affiliated with the Combine?" Adrian shook his head furiously. "Where have you resided for the last ten years, since the occupation by the Combine began?"

"In the black, in the black." Adrian sputtered, and began rolling his head back and forth again.

"Where's the black?" Sasha asked, perplexed.

"With the government man." Adrian slurred. "That prick, he killed, oh yes he killed." The general shook his head, this man wasn't making any sense. Adrian's eyes, which had been roaming the room, narrowed their gaze on the confused Sasha. "Destovaya!" He cried. "I once knew a guy by that name, good guy." He slurred. "Good soldier, damn good soldier. I'd say to him sometimes 'Damnit, Dmitri! You should be promoted!' The brass were always passin' him over for…"

"How do you know that name?" Sasha snapped. _Dmitri_, he thought, _I haven't heard that name in almost two decades._ Everyone in the room, who had been paying close attention before, were now moving closer to the doped up man, trying to decipher his cryptic speech. Adrian leveled his gaze with Sasha, his eyes widened and closing.

"He and I… we… we…" But Adrian didn't finish his sentence, his iris widened and his mouth opened in a gasp. "No! No!" His body shook spasmodically as he screamed as though he had been shot. "Stop! Stop! Make them stop! They're dead, but they're still walking!" The chair scooted around on the floor as Adrian struggled to flee from the scene before his eyes and his eyes only. "Tower! Wilkes! Jackson! Where are you!" His voice had grown horse from the screaming and Sasha took hold of his shaking form, desperately trying to wrest him from the nightmare.

"Adrian! Adrian where are you? What do you see?" His hands straightened Adrian's face forcing him to make eye contact with the general. "What…do…you…see?" he stressed.

"Black…Black…mesa…" He let out one last sigh and collapsed. Yuri rushed in and checked his pulse.

"He's okay, he just feinted." He looked to Sasha. "I told you it wouldn't work."

"Yeah, all he did was babble." Aaron whispered, everyone else was silent.

Without speaking, Sasha stood up and made his way to the elevator. "Get him cleaned up, he stays." He said without turning around.

"He _stays?_ You can't be serious! We can't afford another mouth, and I don't know about any of you, but I happen to have this deadly urge to eat!" But Sasha didn't respond, he stepped into the elevator and slammed the close door bottom. "Jesus, what the hell are we gonna do with him? He's useless, and what has the general makin' such a fuss?"

Yuri was unstrapping Adrian from the chair with the help was Slick when a soft chuckle pierced the air. Aaron turned to see Ivan, covering his mouth, trying to be inconspicuous.

"What's so funny, Ivan the terrible." Aaron's nickname for him. Ivan stopped laughing long enough to respond.

"Aaron, your memory astounds me. Don't you remember? Dmitri is Sasha's brother."


	11. Altered States

-Shephard's Story-

-Altered States-

Adrian's head felt heavy, like a giant lead weight, as he struggled out of the sodium pentothal haze and back into the world. His eyes tried to focus on something, anything besides the gray ceiling tiles. He moved his head to the left, and to the right, his eyes finally resting on the sweetest of sights.

She had fallen asleep on an old, dusty armchair next to his bed. He couldn't see her eyes, they were hidden behind two heavy lids, her chest falling and rising rhythmically. Her auburn hair was done up in a bun, but Adrian was sure it reached past her shoulders. Her face, oval and smooth looking, was covered in dust and grease, yet at the same time fair in complexion and kind looking. Shephard rose from his bed and tried to suppress a cough, not wanting to wake this angel from her sleep.

Eyes fluttered open and a mouth opened wide, her face turning an embarrassed shade of red. "Oh… hello." Those words were like the tune of a heavenly harp. They were deep hazel, her eyes, and oh so beautiful. Suddenly self-conscious, she wiped at her cheeks with the sleeve of her one-piece jumpsuit. It was unbuttoned near the bust, revealing a black sweater, the hammer and sickle emblem embossed in gray upon it. "I… uh, was just taking a seat, and… well." She tried to explain without disclosing the fact that she had been sitting with Adrian the entire time he had been out. Finally she gave up and outstretched her hand. "My name is Katya."

Adrian took it, knowing she already knew his name. All the same though, "Nice to meet you, I'm Adrian. I think." He sat up and ran a hand through his hair, sighing loudly, still trying to regain his balance.

Katya brought a hand to his shoulder, helping him steady himself. "Yeah, sorry about that, I heard they did a number on you."

Adrian chuckled in a horse breath. "You really know how to welcome a guy." Katya turned another shade of red, embarrassed with the actions of her father and his cohorts.

"I had no idea they were going to…" But Adrian brought a hand up to silence her, shaking his head.

"Seriously, don't worry about it. Without them, I would've died." Katya nodded, and the room grew silent. "So… how do you know the general?"

Katya got up and walked over to a small kitchenette pulling a dark brown pot of coffee out and pouring two mugs full. Quietly, almost as if she were ashamed to admit it, she whispered, "He's my father." She turned to Adrian and held up a mug.

"Sure, got any sugar?" The girl laughed, as if the question were absurd. But she quickly realized Adrian had been serious.

"Oh, right. Yuri said you had lost your memory. Sugar hasn't been available since before the war." Adrian added that little bit of information to his memory, hoping to eventually he would find a piece that would jog one of his own. He took the steaming mug gratefully and lifted it to his mouth, downing the bitter, yet refreshing liquid.

"Not bad, keeps the blood flowing, I guess." Adrian tried to joke, but Katya didn't seem to understand.

"How do you feel?" She said touching his back, sending shivers up and down his spine. They were pleasurable though, not painful.

"It doesn't hurt anymore, I think I'll live." He smiled. Katya smiled back and the room once more fell silent as the two stared into each other's eyes. Adrian hadn't seen someone so absolutely beautiful in… well he couldn't remember.

_Maybe she _is_ the first beautiful girl I've ever seen._ At least it ruled out the possibility he was gay. Finally Katya broke the stare and looked to the ground.

"The doctor and I set you up in this room. I don't know what father wants to do, but for now, you're welcome to stay." She said warmly. She pointed to a small desk next to the bed, a small, folded pile of clothing stacked on top of it.

Adrian got up from the bed and picked up the snow camouflage fatigues, unfolding them and holding them close. They were pressed and washed, with a few stains splattered across the sleeves.

"I patched them up the best I could. I thought maybe seeing them would jog some memories." Adrian didn't respond, he simply stared. Nothing about the clothing seemed familiar, at all. Dejected, he folded the clothing and set it back on the desk.

"I'm sorry." He said quietly. "But thank you, they look very nice."

"Don't worry I'm sure it will all come back with time." And with that, Katya smiled so wide and so bright that Shephard believed every word.

X X X

"So, what is this place?" Adrian asked Katya as they walked down another set of corridors, on their way to the mess hall and common area.

"It was a secret Soviet missile deployment facility and weapons depot before the wall fell." This place probably had every major American city targeted at one time or another, Adrian pondered. Were there any missiles left?

They came to a large double door access with a key card slot next to it, Katya pulled another keycard from inside her jumpsuit and swiped it over the reader. The doors quickly swung up, revealed the small mess hall and kitchen.

"Happenin' place." He joked, sitting down at one of the long tables in the empty room.

"Well most everyone is out on a run." Katya said, disappearing behind the kitchen area, grabbing two trays, and filling the compartments with a gray oatmeal soup and an apple.

"A run? What kind of run?" Katya's head appeared from behind the refrigerator door.

"Oh, some sort of crime, I suppose." Adrian's eyebrows lifted at this.

"Crime?" Katya's head reappeared.

"Yeah, crime. Ya know, stealing, plundering, all that sort of thing." She thought about what she said for a moment and corrected herself. "But only from the Combine, of course!"

Adrian smiled and nodded. "But of course." Soon she returned with the trays in hand, as well as two canteens of water.

Adrian smacked his hands together and licked his lips. "Mmm, a feast fit for a king!" Katya giggled and dug into her oatmeal. There silence for several moments while the two enjoyed their meals, Shephard couldn't remember the last time he had eaten.

"So," Katya began between spoonfuls. "You're obviously American, I can tell by your accent. The question now is, what part?" Adrian dropped his spoon and washed his mouth out with water.

"I don't know, but you know what? Oregon sounds nice." Katya lifted an eyebrow.

"Oregon?" She said, her Russian accent testing the strange word.

"Yeah, I don't know why. Just sounds nice, I guess. Where are you from?" Katya finished eating and set her plate aside.

"Well, I was twelve when…" Adrian could tell she meant when the war broke out, but he didn't want to drudge up any bad memories.

"Moscow? That's the capital city, isn't it?" Katya was pulled from her reverie and smiled at his suggestion.

"Yes, but no, we lived in St. Petersburg. Good try though."

"Is it pretty there?" Adrian said, trying to focus on the good. Katya's eyes took on a glassy, far off look.

"Oh yeah, in the winter, especially in the winter. The snow, it falls down like a big white sheet all over the city… at least," she trailed off, "it used to do that. We haven't been back since... well no one can enter the cities freely anymore, they're all controlled by the Combine, all of them numbered."She counted off some of the cities on her trimmed nails. "City 19 is Moscow, Berlin is City 16, New York became city 8, London was renamed City 12, the list goes on." Adrian could hear the coldness in her voice, like she was so tired of being sad that she had shut herself off to the sorrow.

But before Adrian could try to console her the entryway doors lifted themselves up and Aaron, looking rather heated, walked into the mess hall. He stopped as soon as he saw Katya sitting across from Shephard and glared at her.

"Sasha wants to see you." He said pointing to Katya. She looked to Adrian with a questioning expression. As she rose, so did he, but Aaron stopped him. "Only the girl." Adrian sat back down and Katya shot him an apologetic look.

As she left the room she turned to Aaron, he took a seat across from Adrian, and said, "Play nice, Aaron."

Aaron smiled sarcastically and waved her off. Finally he turned to Adrian, and eyed him menacingly in silence. He stared right back, knowing he wouldn't give the man the satisfaction of intimidating him. The staring went on for several more seconds before Aaron broke down laughing.

Grabbing Adrian's apple, he stood up and walked out of the mess hall, chuckling all the way back to his quarters.

X X X

The base Adrian found himself in seemed little more than one giant, confusing rat maze. Finishing his breakfast, he had taken it upon himself to go look for Katya, knowing little else that he could do. But several T-intersections and a host of strange, locked doors later, he ended up back in the lobby. Irritated and dismayed, he took a seat at the ancient reception desk and wiped the dust from on top of it with placid interest.

"Yeah, I have those days here too." The voice came from his left. Adrian jumped slightly, startled, but relaxed when he saw the mousy face of Stanley staring back at him.

"Oh, hello. Stanley, isn't it?" The man nodded and extended a hand.

"Hey look, about what happened." Adrian nodded; there wasn't anything more to be said. He didn't know what he had told the small band of rebels, but it was obviously enough to earn him a place to sleep, and a warm meal. That was enough for now.

"I was looking for the general's quarters, know where it is?" Stanley nodded and pointed a thumb behind him at an array of doors.

"Come on, I'll take you there. Besides, mate, you need a keycard to get into the dormitories." The two made their way through one of the locked doors and down a set of stairs, traversing deeper into the Earth.

"How far down are we?" His boot steps clicking in the silence of the hallway.

"I want to say three or for stories. But there's several freight elevators, all designed to truck in anything from tanks to nukes, and believe me, we still have a few of those lying around." Adrian's eyebrows furrowed.

"That's an unsettling thought." Stanley nodded and they turned left at another junction.

"Don't I know it, but a lot of them are so old, I'm talking early cold war, that I have serious doubts about their hardware integrity." Adrian was somewhat relieved to hear that.

"So what do you do here?" Shephard asked. The group seemed so small; he could only guess that there had to be some sort of division of labor.

Stanley smiled, a broad toothy grin. "Me? I work the electronics. Security and research are my main concerns."

"Security of the base?" Stanley began slowing down as they rounded a corner and came upon a long row of doors, keycard swipe pads hastily attached to each lock.

"Yeah, we're about a half day's drive from the nearest Combine outpost, City 17. But just the same we're laced the perimeter outside with sensors. Never good to be caught with your pants down." He winked at Adrian.

Adrian was about to ask him if they'd had any trouble with the so-called 'Combine' lately when their conversation was interrupted by a louder one. Three doors down on their left, Adrian could hear a shouting match ringing like a church chorus through the hallway. Adrian could make out a female's voice, softer, yet filled with contention, as well an older man's, loud and brassy. Yet the conversation remained a mystery, because it was all taking place in Russian.

"Never could understand it." Stanley began. "Ivan and Yuri speak Russian, but they don't seem to get involved. As long as I've been here, the General has been like a mother hen over Katya. Probably to make up for losing her mother." The door to the general's room summarily burst open and Katya, red in the face and fuming, stormed out. She turned to the open doorway and yelled something that Adrian was sure was an obscenity, before turning to see the two men.

Her angry expression faded and was quickly replaced by embarrassment. "Oh, hello Stanley, Adrian." But before she could continue the male voice from inside the room roared.

"Adrian?" It said in English. "Bring him in, I need to speak with him." Katya looked to her left, inside the room, and fumed again. She stomped down the hallway, passing the two men.

"Trouble on the homestead?" Stanley giggled, trying to lighten the situation. Katya shot him a glare and he brought up his hands defensively. "Jesus okay sorry!" As Katya passed Adrian she didn't shoot him the same glare, but rather looked into his eyes longingly, as if she desperately wanted to tell him something. Stanley elbowed Adrian and whispered to him. "Damn Russkies, they have no clue what a joke is."

But he hadn't whispered low enough because Katya, her face red with fury, turned to Stanley, fire in her eyes. From one of the bottomless pockets of her suit, she pulled a mean looking wrench and pulled it back, as it were some kind of boomerang. Stanley and Adrian instinctive dropped to the floor and heard a large clang against the door behind them.

Jumping up from his prone position, Stanley called down to the Russian vixen, who had mustered up all the dignity she could, and sauntered down the hall. "You missed!" She didn't break her stride as she turned and looked over her shoulder.

"No I didn't." And she continued her walk down the hall. Adrian's eyes were still transfixed on her departing figure. The way her suit clung to her body in the most attractive way it could without sacrificing efficiency. How her hips swayed, and her ponytail swished back and forth.

"God…Damn woman!" He heard Stanley cry behind him. Adrian turned and found Stanley crouching front of one of the locks on the many doors that lined the halls. "The girl almost destroyed the locking mechanism on my door! It'll take me hours to get it unlocked, not to mention replaced."

Adrian allowed himself a slight chuckle before moving to the open door. "Hey you know what they say about hell and women, right?" Stanley lifted his gaze from the lock and smiled.

"Yeah, Hell's got nothin' on a girl's wrath. Guess I should be more careful next time." From inside the open door way, the voice boomed again, this time addressing Stanley.

"You'll be lucky if there _is_ a next time."

X X X

"Ah, Adrian. Take a seat." Sasha said, his voice no longer the angry canon it had been. Shephard took his seat and immediately took notice of all the pictures lining the wall. They were all dominated by men in uniforms, some in front of tanks, others in front of planes, an even one or two aboard a ship. The uniforms, they were what caught Adrian's eye though, he didn't know how he knew, but he knew they belonged to the Soviet Union.

The General saw him transfixed on the pictures. "Oh, yes. Well, at least you know why they call me the general now, don't you?"

Adrian turned to Sasha. "How long?"

The man leaned back in a creaky leather and wood chair. "Up until the wall fell. But I'm not here to tell you my story, we need to hammer out a few details." He leaned forward, over his desk, looking Adrian in the eyes. "I'm in a predicament here. Under the sodium pentothal you didn't confess to working with the Combine, now that works in your favor. But I still don't know who you are, or where you came from. The doctor said he has no clue when, or if, you'll ever regain your memory, but he isn't optimistic. Which leaves me in a position I don't quite care to be in. What do I do with you?" Sasha mused, his fingers tracing the rim of a coffee mug.

"General, sir…" Adrian began.

"Just call me Sasha." He retorted.

"Sasha…" Shephard began again. "…Your kindness has saved my life. I don't know who I am or where I come from, but that seems to be moot now. If I don't remember who I am, I might as well start my life anew, but the world outside sounds… strange, to say the least."

The general nodded. "Indeed, it is. Which is why the crew and I have come to the decision that you can stay with us as until we can find out who you are." Adrian nodded, smiling. He was already beginning to feel at home here. "But." The general continued, adding a caveat. "While on my base, you do exactly what I tell you to do, when I tell you to do it, and how I tell you to do it. Understood?" Adrian simply nodded and the general continued. "Our line of work, though, is what many of the Combine higher-ups would call, unsavory, more than likely illegal. I'm not in the business of saving the world, just surviving. I do what I need to in order to keep my crew healthy, and their bellies full. Other than that, we're on our own."

They sounded more like mercenaries to Adrian now, but still, what other choice did he have? "So what did you do after the wall fell?" Adrian asked, trying to change the subject. The general smiled and brought a boot up to the table, tying the laces tightly.

"Why not come and see?"

X X X

The storage room was huge, looming over the two men like a giant gothic cathedral. There were never enough guns, Sasha thought. No matter what state the world was in, guns were always going to be a necessity. The current state of affairs did only one thing to gun sales- tripled them. After the wall fell Sasha had only one alternative. With the Soviet Union in an embarrassing pile of shambles, Sasha did what he did best. He made war- well not made war, he helped arm it. From the Middle East to Northern Ireland. From the Congo to China, Sasha used his connections as a General to take hold of several armories the U.S.S.R. had failed to account for when it dissolved. He was amazed at the amount of money that could be made trafficking weapons. Soon he was well off, more so than during the Soviet Era, and his family, oblivious to his dealings, were living a life of luxury.

Then the Combine came.

His world ended in one sickening explosion. As the cities of man fell to the combine, nations savagely attacked one another, confusing their fellow man for the enemy at hand. In one bright flash of nuclear light, the ancient city of St. Petersburg was destroyed, laid to waste by an ICBM from some unknown source. Sasha had been on the phone to his wife when the bomb struck. She had been trapped in the city with her family, trying to escape as the synth crabs flooded the streets like an infection might the blood vessels. Holding young Katya on his lap, he spoke nervously into the phone. He told his wife he could be there in less than an hour in one of the helicopters he had stored away. His wife didn't have time to question why he would be in ownership of a military helicopter because the line suddenly went dead, along with the several million citizens of the great city.

But none of that mattered now.

"We trade the guns stored here, and in other warehouses attached to the facility underground, to the resistance for food and other amenities." Racks of guns, too many to count, stood side by side, creating great corridors inside the warehouse of deadly killing machines. Adrian reached out and took one of the AK-47's that dominated the room.

"And they all work?" The general nodded. "You bet, you could drop that in mud, throw it in sand, or leave it in the arctic tundra for years, and it would fire like it was hot off the assembly line." Adrian handled the gun deftly, though he didn't remember ever holding one in his life, and pulled the action back, loading an imaginary bullet into the barrel. "Had prior experience?" The general raised an inquiring brow.

Adrian set the gun back down, "Not that I can remember." He quipped. The general laughed and lead them deeper into the warehouse. They filled through another large blast door and into a blackened room, into which Adrian's eyes could not see. "What's in here?" He echoed, the room must be huge.

The general tapped a switch to the side of the door and the room burst into being. Tanks and transports crowded the room, all sitting pristinely in the artificial light, as if waiting for a war that would never come, doomed to be assembled here for all eternity, collecting dust.

"Jesus… They still work I presume." The general nodded.

"With enough petrol stored away that keeping them moving isn't a problem." The general pointed to the other side of the warehouse where a large door stood, giant locks and hydraulic lifts attaching it to the wall. "That's the lift to the surface. We use it to get whatever we're transporting out of the base. It leads up to a carefully concealed cave, big enough to drive one of the transports though." The two men stood in silence for awhile, Adrian taking in the average goings on of the base. So they were gunrunners, he surmised, and well off ones, well at least well off enough to live in peace. "So…" The general began. "Be interested in making a run?" Adrian turned to him, a mischievous grin plastered upon his face.

"I'll try anything once." The general laughed.

"You sure this'll be your first time?"

Who knew?

X X X

Dmitri, He hadn't heard that name in years. Too many years, he thought sometimes. Not since he left.

_He defected_. His mind spat. His own brother, a colonel of the Red Army, had defected. He had confided in Sasha more than once about his misgivings pertaining to the Party, to socialism in general. Sasha had written him off each time. Until…

"_It's a deal we can't pass up." Dmitri exclaimed, as if he were talking about buying a refrigerator._

_Sasha threw his mug, full of searing hot coffee, in Dmitri's direction. "You will speak no such thing! It is treason! You've already doomed yourself by even _talking_ to the CIA, if the Party finds out…"_

"_But they wont…" Dmitri cut him off. "…Because you're not going to tell him."_ _Sasha fell back into his comfortable leather chair inside his office, situated in a private corner of a base just outside of Moscow. _

"_What about my family?" He pleaded with Dmitri, trying to infuse some sense into him. "If they find out before you leave… they'll have us all executed. Think of Katya for the love of the motherland!" Katya was barely a year old, he wouldn't let the savage KGB have their way with her. Never._

_Dmitri seemed to relent. His shoulder's dropped and he turned to walk out. He stopped by the door, one hand on the frame, and turned to his brother. "Whatever I do from now on, I do alone. It is not my place to endanger you or your family." Sasha nodded, he had no control over his brother, and he certainly was not going to hand him over to the Party. And with that he left._

Sasha hadn't seen his brother since. Grasping the crumpled piece of letter in his hands, Sasha swiped his card over the scanner and let himself into the security room. Computers lined the walls and crowded the folding tables. Wires and cables crisscrossed the floor in such a state of disarray that the former general of the Soviet Army was surprised anything worked at all.

"Yeah, but it does. Don't question the artist." Stanley retorted to Sasha's comment, whom, with a wave of his hand, dismissed the argument. He brought out the crumpled piece of paper and flattened it out on the table.

"I need a video and audio connection." The tech read the transponder coordinates and furrowed his brow.

"These coordinates are on the other side of the planet, I'll have to bounce it off one of the old satellites."

"So?" Stanley reread the coordinates and punched them into the computer.

"One of the Combine spy sats will pick it up, you can bet you last pound on that. When they do, you'll have three minutes before they can jack the line and trace it back to us. Whoever you're calling, it'll have to be a quickie." Stanley rechecked the coordinates one last time, for accuracy, but noticed something strange. "Hey, Sasha, this email is dated right before the Combine broke…" But the general cut him off.

"How much time do I have?" The tech noticed the hurried and curt tone and let the subject lie.

"Five minutes, to be safe. Any longer than that, and you'll risk giving us away." The general nodded and pointed to the door.

"But I still have to check the system stats…"

"_Go._" The general spat. Stanley stood up from his chair and stormed off down the hall.

Sasha sat down in the warm chair, courtesy of Stanley, and watched the monitor as it connected to the satellite and relayed his face and words to the destination.

There was a slight delay, punctuated by a black screen. But before Sasha could worry about connection problems the screen came to life, and he was greeted by a haggard looking man in snow-white camouflage fatigues.

"Dmitri." Sasha almost wanted to curse. But the truth was he was glad to see his brother, even if he was wearing the garb of an American Marine. He looked older, though. The war and ensuing occupation hadn't been good for his health. He was bald now, but not by choice, and his eyes seemed to sag, as if he hadn't gotten quite enough sleep. The man looked as if he had just woken up, which he had.

"Jesus… _Sasha?_" He nearly cried, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "I had no idea that you… well that you survived! So you did get my email…"

Sasha cut him off; this wasn't a time for recounting old memories. "Look… I don't have a lot of time, but I think I found something that belongs to you." He held up the dog tags. "I picked up a stray, he was wearing some of your gear, and these tags." He read off the information on the tags. "I'm pretty sure the kid swiped the shit from a dead body." He could see his brother flinch, the pain registering quite clear. But Sasha also knew he was lying through his teeth. This kid, though still a kid, couldn't have known some of the stuff he did all by himself. Just the same, it was better this way. "Yeah, so, I just thought you'd like to know…"

"Thanks…" Silence. "How have you been?" Sasha looked at the counter at the bottom of the screen, two minutes left.

"I don't really have enough time to… you know." Dmitri nodded. "But I'm fine, Katya too." By not mentioning his wife, he had made her death clear.

"Good, again, thanks. Now we can put Adrian to rest." Sasha could see Dmitri look off screen to someone, beckoning him or her over. "Get this information down to Sergeant Tower, he'll want to know about this." He turned back to Sasha, apologies filling his stare. "Where are you transmitting from?" Sasha looked down at the counter again, one minute.

"I really can't say." And with that he turned off the screen ending the transmission. He hoped it would be the last time he had to do that.


	12. Secrets Exposed

-Shephard's Story-

-Secrets Exposed-

Propped up against the hard, cold cement wall behind his cot, Adrian held the withering fatigues in his hand. He concentrated on the pattern, as if would reveal the story woven into the threats of the clothing. His brow furrowed so painfully that he began to experience a headache. Throwing the clothes across the room he let his head hang low in his hands, a small, desperate whimper quietly escaping his mouth.

What was the point? Maybe he wasn't anything other than a vagabond, who'd stolen the clothes off a corpse to stay warm. His body twisted and turned with the agony of not knowing. Not knowing whom he was, not knowing his history. Reaching over to the small dresser, Adrian took the mug of hot tea that Stanley had gotten him, and chocked it down. Taking several deep breathes; he tried to clear his mind. He was safe, that's all that mattered at this juncture. Lying back, he curled up and let the worries of the day be washed away by the soothing tea.

X X X

Yuri and Sasha walked in step down the hallway, and came to rest in front of the large door that served as the entrance to the maintenance bay and Stanley's cubbyhole, where he did most of his research. Sasha stood next to the door switch, but his hand stopped just over the scanner.

"What do you really think about the boy?" He didn't look at Yuri when he asked.

Yuri stared at the general from behind his spectacles, refracting light hiding his eyes. "It _was_ odd that he knew about Dmitri, wouldn't you say?" He answered the general's question with another one, making him frown.

"That's not the point. Do you think he could… that he might be…" He was afraid to ask the question for fear of sounding absurd.

Yuri smiled; he had known the general since before the Combine invaded. He didn't have to speak to make himself clear. "Might have been involved with Black Mesa? No, of course not. He wouldn't have been more than ten years old."

The general nodded, he knew the question was absurd, it just felt good to ask it. "Right, of course not." He mumbled, swiping the card over the door scanner. The door wooshed open and the two men entered, making their way around vehicles and in between motorcycles, several missing wheels and propped up on struts.

"Oh!" Yuri cried as he tripped, landing on the cement floor.

"Watch where you're steppin', you damned fool!" Slicks think voice filled the seemingly empty room. Slid underneath one of the bikes, she had been too busy modifying the scout bikes to notice the men walking through. She crawled out from under the black bike and helped Yuri to his feet. "Sorry about that Doc. You okay?"

The older man dusted his fatigues off and smiled. "What are you working on?" Slick winked and plastered on a grin from ear to ear.

"Well, well. You remember that abandoned dropship we passed on our way back from Claiborne?" The men nodded, Claiborne was the nearest "Freetown", pockets of humanity that strived to live outside of the numbered cities. Unless otherwise involved in Resistance activities, the Combine and Overwatch tended to overlook these small settlements, deciding to let the harsh environment the Earth had become swallow them up rather than expend resources destroying them and relocating the anticitizens.

"Yes, the one that looked as though it had been downed by the Resistance?" Yuri's eyebrows rose inquisitively. Slick stood up from a kneeling position and walked over to a large workbench, covered in a brown burlap tarp.

"Well, me and Stanley browsed around the wreckage, and found it was anything but." She pulled the tarp up, revealing one of the telltale engines from the rear of the aircraft.

"Jesus, you cut that off the ship?" Sasha said, amazed. Slick rewarded him with a wink that spoke of the ingenuity she innately possessed.

"Actually, conveniently, it was detachable. I've been playing around with it for the couple of days, and finally was able to reversed engineer it. Had a bitch of a time, though, trying to power it. The anti-mass drives the Combine use run on a completely different voltage than anything I can hope to imitate…"

"Which is where I come in…" From behind the group, Stanley's confident tone interrupted. Sasha turned to see Stanley atop the bike, a small electronic box in one hand. Slick dropped the tarp and ran over to Stanley, as if Christmas had come several months early.

"You finished it!" She cried. Stanley handed her the box and she slid it into the bottom of the bike.

"The Combine anti-mass drives operate on the same basis that the Ion drive space probes did before the war. They spit out tiny little particles that propel the object in one direction." Slick attached several cables to the small box as Stanley continued. "Except where as the space probes of old used positively charged atoms, ions, to propel themselves, Combine technology uses particles waves of anti-matter to give an object thrust in one direction or another."

"So what does all that mean, exactly?" Asked Yuri. Slick finished wrenching in the box and flipped the switch to the side. Immediately the thrusters on the front and rear of the bike grew a cold blue and the vehicle rose a foot and several inches off the ground, sending a startled Stanley crashing to the ground.

"We got ourselves a bike that don't need refueling." Slick smiled, her hand on the scout cycles handlebars.

"Impressive, can you retro fit any of the transports with that technology?"

"Not anytime soon, but then again, we have all the time in the world, don't we?" By this time, Stanley had finally gotten back to his feet and was rubbing his soar cranium. Sasha glanced in his direction.

"Is this what you wanted to show us?" Stanley winced and shook his head.

"No, it's in the lab." He threw a finger in the direction of the back of the bay, where he kept his 'lab', which in reality was just a space he had set aside to do experiments on Combine technology.

Sitting on the lone operating table was the combat vest the men had fond Adrian in. Hooked up to several wires, diagnostic machines hummed in the background, constantly taking readings. The three men gathered around the vest, Stanley punching codes into a PDA, appropriating tasks to several machines.

"So what have you found?" Sasha asked impatiently, he had better things to do, like preparing for the run tomorrow.

"Yeah, yeah. Well, you said you wanted to know what those prongs were that stuck in your boy's back when you found him? Well look at this." He leaned over the table and tabbed several buttons on a small communications device attached to the chest. The table shuddered quickly as spikes along the inside of the vest shot out at the speed of a bullet. The three men knelt down to get a better view of the needles inside the vest.

"My god!" Yuri yelled. The needles were covered in blood, and behind to secrete small amounts of a clear liquid. "The pain must be excruciating!" Stanley nodded and took out a sample cup from the side of the table and swabbed one of the needles, taking away a sample of the liquid. Crossing the room, he put the sample under the microscope and an image suddenly appeared on the computer monitor above him.

"Now at first I wanted think that it was maybe morphine, or some type of pain neutralizing neurotoxin, capable of giving a soldier a constant boost of adrenaline, or dulling pain. But this…" He said magnifying the image. "Is much more." The other two men walked in front of the monitor and stared up.

It looked like any typical culture sample, with random bits of organic speckles dotting the white background. "So what is it?" Yuri asked.

"Surely, good doctor, you don't see it?" He magnified the image one more time, and it became clearer. The organic cells weren't organic after all. They all were formed in the same pattern, four small globules surrounded by a thick outer membrane. Yuri breathed deep with shock.

"They couldn't have…" Sasha squinted at the image, trying to make out what he was seeing.

"What is it?" Sasha finally asked.

"Nanotechnology." Stanley said, in a hushed voice, as if the word lent it self to something sacred. Sasha had heard about it before, machines the size of blood cells that would infiltrate a human body and scan it for any pathogens, but he was under the impression it was all science fiction.

Not science _fact_.

"It's incredible!" Yuri said looking through the microscope. Stanley pushed him aside.

"Not until you've seen this." He took out a small knife from his boot and pricked his finger, letting the small amount of blood fall into the petri dish. The nanites immediately attacked it, cauterizing it until there was nothing left of the blood cells save their clotted remnants. "I also used live tissue, cultures of most of the poisons and toxins we have here on base, all with the same result. The nanties either attack and kill it, or cauterize and neutralize. It's a regular medtech station on the go. And I'm sure," he said pointing to the vest. "That thing has more control over how the nanites are dispersed and used. I also detected traces of steroid based tissue enhancers. Whoever's wearing this thing will have enhanced performance, as well as amazing recovery. Nothing short of a boomstick blast to the face is gonna bring that thing offline."

"Was this thing a prototype?" Sasha asked, if it was, Adrian's loss of memory might be attributed to a failed experiment, or maybe he just donned a defective vest without even knowing it.

"Nope, nope." Stanley shook his head. "All the diagnostics show the vest running at full capacity, though I think it draws bio electrical energy from its user and stores it, which would account for the lack of a power cell." He walked over the table and turned the vest over, and pointed to a sewn in tab on the back. "And this? The serial number here means it isn't the only one of its type. There are, or better yet, were, more."

"So it isn't Combine technology?"

"Nope, made in the U.S.ofA." Stanley said.

"What about reverse engineering it? We could use something like this." Stanley hesitated.

"I doubt it, I mean I'd have to research more information on nanotechnology, but most of the information databases were destroyed in the war. Maybe if we took it to Eli's we could…"

"No." Stanley stiffened up. Sasha was really on edge lately, most likely due to Adrian's appearance, but there was something else. Sasha took another look at the vest, and moved to leave the lab. "Get some sleep then, we're heading out early, I want to slip in before the morning recon begins." And with that, Sasha left the two men standing over the strange piece of technology.

X X X

Adrian brought a gloved hand up to shield his eyes. He could hear his own labored brought inside of the mask he wore, an unnerving sound in the least. The sun overhead beat down mercilessly upon him, as he surveyed the small clay huts, seemingly stranded out in the middle of nowhere in the Iraqi desert.

_But what am I doing here?_ Adrian asked himself. He didn't feel in control of his body, but he felt the heat scorch him, felt the uncomfortable fatigues chafe against his skin, and the weight of the rifle in his hands.

"That's the objective." Adrian heard a voice to his left speak. His vision swiveled, though not of his own accord, to fall upon that of another man, his face adorned in feature accentuating scars, causing his mouth to be turned up in a perpetual sneer. The man looked through heavy binoculars down the ridge and onto the town. Several men and women walked back and forth among the huts, carrying out their daily duties, unaware of the death squad hanging over their heads, waiting to take their first borns, and everyone else.

_Death Squads?_ Why had he thought that? Where was he? His vision turned behind him to find several more marines lying prone behind him, their weapons at the ready. The man with the scars turned to the men as well.

"Our mission is to search the village for members of the Iraqi Royal Guard. The brass want a few more trophies before we hit the road, and you, Marines, and going to go get 'em for me. Oorah?" The men Oorahed in return and the man looked to Shephard, the scars twisting in an ugly type of smile. "Sergeant Shephard?"

_No, what am I doing?_ Adrian felt himself wave to the marines, forward, his own rifle bared, as they slunk towards the huts, their movement obscured by sand dunes. Adrian could feel his pulse pounding as his body, not under his own control marched down the slope, in the direction of the village.

The sun grew brighter, and hotter, until Adrian's vision was obscured. Finally the blinding light diminished, but was replaced by a burst of gunfire. Adrian could see the men firing at the civilians, gunning them down. Men, women, and children. They were all innocent, and Adrian knew it. Just the same, the marines let loose the torrent of lead, cutting down the villagers until Adrian found himself standing among a pile of bodies. Adrian could feel himself drop to his knees, though he would have even in his body was his to control. He could feel his hand reach up and rip the mask from his face, throwing it among the pile of bodies. His hands came up to tearing eyes.

_What had he done? Had he killed all these people?_ Hands came to his sides, rough ones, pulling at him. Adrian didn't fight back though. The faceless specters dragged his living corpse from the village, into the black. The laughter of all the dead men and women his only company.


	13. The Job

_Run, desire, run  
a sexual being  
run him like a blade  
to and through the heart, no conscience  
one motive: cater to the hollow  
screaming feed me here  
fill me up again  
temporarily pacify this hunger that's so cruel_

The Hollow – A Perfect Circle

-Shephard's Story-

-The Job-

The hands, those coarse, sun dried hands grabbed at Shephard, ripping at his fatigues, pulling him down into the depths of their sorrow along with him. But he didn't care; it was his own actions that had brought about this slaughter. Or was it? Adrian struggled against the hands now, his mind muddled and clouded. Why had he done that? Who was he? A face, scarred and smiling, stared back at him through the darkness. It was the face of the man from his dream, the one who had pushed them into the village. His scares crisscrossed his face, creating a myriad of symbols, all the while the mouth was twisted in the same smirk, satisfied with the state Adrian now found himself in.

"You can't forgive yourself, you never knew how." The dreamy whispers escaped the mouth. "You could never reconcile with what you _knew_ had to be done."

"Wha…?" Adrian's mouth opened, but the darkness exploded, and the faces of all the dead men and women filled his vision again. Bullet holes in their foreheads, they all smiled back in the same twisted smile his comrade sported.

"Come on, Marine… Wake up and smell the napalm!" The face spat out fire, and it licked at Adrian's clothing. "You don't got no constitution! You gotta be able to shove that knife in the man when his back is turned and smile while you do it!"

"No! Shut up! Just shut the _fuck_ up!" Adrian screamed, holding his hands infront of his face, not wanting to see the accusing stares of the dead faces populating his sight.

"Corporal Ssshephard…" It was that voice again, that slithering, conniving voice. "Why so busy remembering long ago eventssss… when you should be focusssing," Adrian let his hands fall to the side, revealing a void of space, empty of the faces that once plagued it, instead populated by that mysterious man in the blue suit. "On the task… at hand." And with that the figure slowly slid into the darkness.

Alone once again, Adrian curled up into himself, willing the memories of the dream away. But the faces of the dead, and of that scarred and battle weary man, as well as the pale faced figure, still clawed at his mind, their hands ripping at his clothing.

The figurative hands soon became very real, as they once again slid out of the void and pulled at Adrian, once more vying to bring him down.

_Come, come_ They shouted in unison

_Wake up…wake up _They continued. Adrian struggled, beating senselessly against the air.

_Wake up…_

"Hey Adrian! Wake up mate!" Adrian's sweat ridden form jolted awake, greeted by the annoyed scowl plastered across Stanley's face. "Come on, the General's about to leave without you!" Shephard rose from his fetal position and blinked several times, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

"What? Where are we going?" He was relieved to find himself in familiar, albeit still alien, territory. Stanley stood next to his dresser, leaning on his for support. His normally casually dressed figure was now garbed in battle camoflauge, a utility vest across his top, and a holstered pistol at his hip.

"We're going on a salvage run. Didn't the general tell you?" Adrian nodded, he remembered the general mentioning it. Rousing himself from his bed, he followed Stanley down the hall of the dormitory. As they marched down toward the armory, Adrian could see the doors to the other rooms opened, their occupants still readying themselves.

Passing one of the doors, Adrian could see the massive figure of Ivan, dressed in the same battle fatigues, a rifle slung across his back, sharpening a mean looking knife. As they passed by his threshold he nodded curtly to Adrian.

"You tell the general if he doesn't bring the contact grenades, I promise you we'll be in a world of hurt!" Shephard's attention was drawn towards the pair arguing at the end of the hall. Slick, ready for battle as well, stood defiantly against Aaron's tirade.

"Jesus Aaron, we're just lootin' it, not shellin' it! Now stow it, you got enough guns on you to arm a small country anyways!" And that he did, an M16A2 slung across his back, an mp5 attached to the front of his vest, and the twin magnums at his hips, coupled with his bulging muscles and imposing figure made him very intimidating.

Passing by the two, Stanley popped a smirk in Aaron's direction, enjoying watching him get chewed out by Slick. Aaron sneered in reply and turned back to Slick, fire in his eyes, and revulsion on his tongue.

"Yeah, well I ain't gonna be responsible for your carcass when you get mobbed by the fuckers. I ain't in the business of being a hero." Slick rolled her eyes.

"Ain't nobody askin' you to be. Now get down to the garage and prep the transports. And Stanley you get that boy some armor an' a gun!" She called down to the pair, and Stanley responded with a wave of the hand.

"Where are we going?" Adrian asked as Stanley swiped his card over the scanner at a door near the end of the hall, eliciting an hydraulic hiss as it moved to the side.

"A town, 'bout fifty klicks west of here. Nasty place, the combine really did a number on it with their parasite rockets, but that at least means no one's been inside to clean it out. Plenty of goodies all lying around for the taking…" But Adrian hadn't been listening; his attention was grabbed by the massive amounts of weapons and ammunition stacked on top of each other. "Here, first things first." Stanley threw open a small locker and grabbed a combat vest out of it. "Now this wont stop a plasma rifle, but it'll give you a little extra leeway in close quarters." Adrian was about to ask what a plasma rifle was when Stanley threw him the vest.

Securing it tightly around his torso, the pressure and weight felt refreshingly familiar. Stanley scrutinized the new recruit and smiled. "Perfect fit. Now to arm you."

Striding on over to the wall, he pulled down a mean looking shotgun. Hefty and coloured a dull gray, it looked like it would instill a sense of panic in anyone on the receiving end. "This beauty is called 'Stella', she's a modified Franchi SPAS 12. They don't take her out much, mainly because she doesn't like to play nice, but…" He lobbed the weapon Adrian's way. "maybe just this once."

Before Adrian could catch the weapon, though, it found its way in Aaron's powerful grip. "I don't think so, mousy. Stella ain't for games, and especially not for some rookie." He placed Stella back upon her rack, Adrian looking longingly back. "Now this is more your style," He said holding his hand out, an M9 nine millimeter pistol in his grip.

"That looks more like an airgun." Adrian said caustically. Aaron just smiled.

"Yeah well… wouldn't wanna let someone of your… unknown origins, have all the big guns, now would we?" Stanley sighed and pushed Aaron out of the way.

"I thought Slick told you to get down to the loading docks," He shot a look in Aaron's direction. "Ya know, so we can _leave_." Aaron's gaze shifted slowly from Adrian to Stanley, and he brought a hand up to his goatee, rubbing it in a contemplative fashion, as though he was pondering whether or not to throw a punch at his diminutive partner.

"Yeah, whatever." He said sourly, before marching out of the room. Adrian grabbed a hip holster from the armory and secured it to himself.

"Damn, two years in this hole with him, and he still freaks the crap out of me…" Stanley groaned. Holstering the sidearm, Adrian replied.

"What's his problem?"

Stanley's voice grew low, almost to a whisper. "If you want my personal opinion, he sounds like one of them psychopaths, one's that woulda been locked up before the war. He's crazier than a fruit basket, but an absolute whiz with a weapon, I guess that's why the General keeps him on." The pair stepped out of the room and Stanley locked the door with his card. "Might also be why he's the only one of us with surveillance in his room…"

X X X

The large steel door was slowly lifted up, as Stanley and Adrian jogged into the loading dock, not wanting to be left behind. The idea of finally getting out, finally _doing_ something, was almost intoxicating.

"…_focusing… on the task at hand…"_ Those words rung out in the depths of his brain like a train whistle. Was that dream only that? Just a dream? Or had there been more to it? What events did that man mean?

"Come on, over here." Stanley whispered, pointing over to the group of people standing around the general. Adrian and Stanley stood next to Yuri as the General laid out the plans. He could see Katya across the circle, dressed in a form fitting black jumpsuit, a silenced TMP at her waist and Kevlar covering her torso. Her hair was done up in a bun and she winked at Adrian, sending warmth up and down his body.

"Now everyone listen up. This isn't like any other salvage, this is serious. This is zombie territory, we've got one chance of getting in, getting the gear, and getting out. I'm not about to lose a crewman…" Slick shot him a look, "…or woman, on this raid." He pulled out a map with the image of a small city stapled to one corner, and two circles, one on the southeast corner of the city, another on the northeast. "Now these are the two known entrances. The combine had them boarded up, and I think we all know why."

"Fucking monsters…" Yuri said under his breath. Adrian was confused, why so angry over one city? What had happened there?

"We'll catch it close to sun up, still dark, so we'll have the element of surprise, but we'll have light on the way if things go ugly." He looked to Ivan, who nodded back. "Which it wont, am I understood?" The group all nodded in unison. "Good, now Slick Aaron Stanley and Adrian will take the loader." He pointed to a large green military transport to behind him. "And me, Yuri, Ivan and Katya will take the scout car." He gestured to the humvee type reconnaissance vehicle to his left, a mounted machine up attached to the back. He pointed to the map, his finger resting on the circle at the northeast corner. "We'll bust in through here, make our way down the main industrial avenue," He said tracing his finger along the largest road on the map, "Pick up all the supplies we can, then make out break out this boarded up entrance. Slick, Aaron, and Stanley will search the stores, while Yuri, Ivan, Katya and I will play street sweeper. Adrian, you know how to drive a truck?"

"I think so…" Adrian hadn't thought about it, but it was as good a guess as any. Aaron groaned and rolled his eyes. The General smiled, threw his AK47 into the scout and waved the rest of the group off.

"Alright, good enough for me!" Adrian was pushed towards the transport, but not before bumping into Katya, who took him firmly by the arm.

"You ready for this?" Her eyes stared intently into his, signaling the care and concern she had for him.

"Who knows? Maybe I was born ready." He smiled slightly, trying not to shake with nervousness at her firm, yet gentle grasp. Katya nodded and slowly let go, letting her hand slide off his arm. She turned and climbed into the jeep along behind her father, who started the engine.

"Alright people, lets go make the big bucks!"

X X X

The lift had brought the vehicles up from the bowels of the Earth and into the darkness of the early morning. As they exited the cave that served as their concealment, Adrian opened the window to suck in the fresh, unfiltered air.

"Wont be that way for long…" Stanley said, noticing Adrian's enjoyment of the surface. "The Combine air recyclers have been throwing god-knows-what into the atmosphere, during the day the sky is almost brown." Adrian frowned and closed the window, his good mood now thoroughly trodden upon.

"Jeez, Stan, now why'd you have to go and break the mood?" Slick said, behind the wheel of the truck. Stanley was about to respond when Aaron saved him the trouble.

"Because he's realistic, Slick. He knows we ain't got much time, what's the use in sugar-coatin' it for the boy?" Adrian shot Aaron a look, he was getting tired of being called boy.

"So what's so dangerous about this town, what has the General so anxious?" Adrian asked, trying to change the subject.

"Used to be a Freetown, one of the few human settlements outside of Combine control. But once Overwatch got wind that the Resistance had set up base there, they decided to…" Stanley trailed off.

"Wipe it off the map." Slick finished. "They used their parasite rockets, most of the townspeople were turned in a couple of hours, it nothing more than a ghost town now. I heard tell that there aint no safe place there now, not with the zombie infestation. The Combine just walled the city off, tried to forget about it."

This is insane, Adrian thought. "Then why are _we_ going there? Isn't it walled off for a _reason_?" Slick just smiled.

"Yeah, but the easy stuff aint the general's style."

Stanley, who was settling in for the long ride, poked his head up. "Yeah, that and we've pretty much scoured most of the other settlements nearest by. This is the next closest place, and we're running low on supplies. I heard most of the weapons and ammunition, along with medical supplies the Resistance had been stockpiling are just sitting around collecting dust."

Aaron checked the action on one of the numerous guns at his disposal. "Yeah, too bad Zombies can't use guns."

Stanley rolled his eyes. "Yup, too bad…"

"So what's the actual name of the town?" Adrian asked.

Slick's knuckles paled slightly as they tightened around the steering wheel.

"Ravenholm."

A/N: Alright, I know this chapter wasn't that long! I apologize profusely! But in the wake of University finals, and research papers, I had to prioritize! And since everyone who reviewed has been so helpful and so gracious with their compliments, I thought it only natural that you deserved an update. Now believe me when I tell you this fanfic is _FAR_ from dead. Again, to everyone who reviewed, if I did not reply personally, let me take a moment to thank you, your reviews are the best!

PS: Here's a little advertising, which I don't normally do, but I anyone is interested in HL2 mods, give yourself a break from school (I know I want to!) and check out the "Fake Factory Mod" at halflife. . It COMPLETELY redoes the textures, making them look amazing and realistic, it also enhances the character skins as well as the weapon and enemy model skins. And probably the best part about the mod, it replaces many of the weapon sounds, and replaces all the in-game music with orchestrated music from many motion picture soundtracks. It might now sound like it does much to change game play, but believe me, the music alone changes the entire game play. So enough blatant advertising from me! I hope you all enjoyed the chapter, however short it was!


	14. Twilight Terror

_Touch!  
I'll stand for nothing less  
Or never stand again  
These are the limits when one's buried  
This body's left the soul _

Well could we have known  
Never would I  
Have helped to nail down

Careful I'm drifting off  
Now losing taste and touch  
Turning a pale blue leaning in to say  
This body's left the soul

The brain needs oxygen  
Can't sneak around this bait  
His catacomb has got me by the chin  
This body's left the soul

The Clincher - Chevelle

-Shephard's Story-

-Twilight Terrors-

**A/N: This chapter has been edited and updated due to the comments made by my faithful reviewers, who corrected me on some of the firearms I used in this chapter. Thanks to all of you!**

** Now on with the show!  
**

The truck jolted back and forth on the cracked and crumbling old highway. Adrian stared half-heartedly out the window at the landscape, still bathed in the receding moonlight. His chin propped up against his half asleep arm, he sighed inwardly, part bored, part anxious. The rest of the cabin, though, didn't emulate his placid demeanor.

Next to him, Slick still had the wheel, her knuckles still as white as they had been when they left. Her whole attitude during the last two hours had been nothing if not nervous. It was disconcerting to see someone who had been so confident and easy going now twitching and anxious.

But what ever more disconcerting was the sight of Aaron, the supposed 'man of steel nerves' who sat behind slick, his hands never straying from his weapons even the in the relative safety of the truck, still several miles away from their destination. The lids of his eyes fell down half way every so often, and his head would tilt forward. But just before his chin would connect with his chest, his neck would snap back into position, a startled snort escaping his nose, and his eyes returning to their sentry like stance, regarding the world outside the window with paranoid interest.

A loud snort and a rustle behind Adrian drew his attention away from the window and to the rearview mirror, in which he could see Stanley's small form curled up in his seat, his nostrils flaring and his lids tightly shut. It was good to see someone who didn't seem to feel the fear the rest of them did.

Adrian pulled the pistol from his thigh holster and pulled the action back once, ejecting an unused bullet. The tiny metal piece flew through the air of the cabin, and Shephard deftly caught it. Pulling the clip from the gun, he reinserted the bullet, and slapped the clip home.

"Ever used one of those things before?" He heard Slick ask.

"Dunno, but it can't be too hard to master. Just point and pull the trigger right? Gravity and ballistics do the rest?" Her eyes still held tightly on the road ahead, Slick allowed herself a small smile.

"Yup, and a little luck goes a long way, too." Adrian nodded chuckled slightly. It was good to have a little banter in the otherwise mausoleum-like atmosphere of the truck.

The headlights of the truck, sticking to the crumbled gravel of the highway, fell upon a small shape, and Adrian moved to point at the object. Hoping to inform Slick in time for her to steer out of the way, Adrian was amazed when she slammed her foot on the peddle. The truck roared forward, and Adrian steadied himself against the ceiling the of the cabin.

"Whoa! Watch out!" Adrian finally called out. But too late, the truck slammed head on into the animal, which turned to face them as it was run over. The truck jolted more than usual for several seconds, but finally returned to normal. From behind Adrian he heard Stanley snort and cough, signaling he was awake.

"What was it? A Bullsquid or a Houndeye?" Stanley asked, half awake. Adrian, still shocked, looked to Slick, who had a smile plastered across her face.

"Houndeye." She reached for a notepad under her seat with one hand and pulled a pen from her suit pocket, marking off a tally. Adrian could see several dozen tallies on the old worn notebook, and several pages beneath with the same preponderance of markings.

"That makes twenty this week alone. Fuckers are multiplying like rabbits." The curt voice of Aaron sounded from the back.

"What was that?" Adrian asked.

"Some of the aliens from the other worlds the Combine control came through in the earlier days of the occupation. They found they liked Earth so much, they decided to stay." Slick responded, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"They've devastated the Earth's ecosystem, by eating up most of the indigenous animal population. You'd be hard-pressed to find any animal originally native to Earth out in the wild." Stanley added.

Adrian looked out the window on the driver's side, and out into the ocean, which sat quietly, tiny waves lapping at the shore's edge. "What about the ocean? Anything left in there?"

"Not anywhere near the coast. Several miles out, maybe, but closer in is the leeches territory. Like little minnows, with mouths full of razor sharp teeth, and an appetite to boot." Stanley informed him.

"If you're interested in a swim, I wouldn't recommend it. But hey… I wont stop you." He could hear Aaron's distaste.

"Oh come on, Aaron, now you're being just plain…" Stanley began, but was interrupted by the crackling of Slick's radio, attached to her vest.

"_Slick, you have a visual yet?"_ Slick pointed ahead, up the road, and towards a small green sign with Cyrillic lettering and the attachment "3 km" next to it.

"Yes, sir, we just passed the sign. You?" The general was silent for several seconds.

"_Rodger that. Rendezvous at selected location and wait for instructions."_

In the rearview mirror, Adrian could see Stanley rub his face. "Oh god, we're really gonna go through with it…"

X X X

Adrian couldn't make out their destination, as they supposedly neared the city, but he could see the lights from General's scout car. As they neared, though, the entrance to the city became illuminated by the trucks headlights. Tall, brick walls blocked the small area off, from where the cliffs met the coast, to where the mountains slopped up. The old brick, though decrepit and crumbling, was reinforced by some sort of blue steel, a large think door, several shades darker than the surrounding material, barred anyone from entrance.

The truck came to a slow and quiet stop, and slick click off the motor. As the men filed out of the car, Adrian could see the General, Yuri, Ivan, and Katya milling around the large metal door. A skull and cross bones as well as a bio hazard sign, painted in bright florescent green, adorned the door, several languages, including English, scribbled below them, all meaning the same thing "Quarantine".

"Oh, well its locked, guess there's no getting in for us! So why don't we get back on our way and…" Stanley began, as he opened the door to the truck to crawl back inside, but Sasha raised a finger.

"I don't think so, you know what you have to do." Stanley sighed and closed the door to the truck.

"Yeah, yeah… doesn't mean I have to like it." He pulled his knapsack out in front of him, took out a small pouch and approached the metal door.

"Jesus, the Combine really wanted to keep this place sealed up." Yuri commented, holding his MP5 close by. Stanley stopped by the side of the door and ripped open a small box, exposing green and red circuitry.

"Yeah, but to keep the zombies from getting out… or to keep survivors from getting out." Slick said quietly. Adrian began to shiver in the early morning darkness, or maybe it was what Slick had said, he wasn't sure.

"How're you holding up?" The soft voice of Katya came from his right. Adrian wanted to jump, she had startled him, but he contained himself.

Shrugging his shoulders he admired her slim figure in the black jumpsuit. "I'm okay. You?" But the more he looked at that black suit, the more he felt he recognized it, maybe not this exact one, but something like it stirred feelings inside him, feelings not all together happy.

Katya lifted her nightvision goggles higher over her forehead, exposing several brown locks, and smiled at Adrian. "I'll be okay, we've done riskier stuff. Everyone's just freaked out because it's Ravenholm."

"Yeah, with good reason." Aaron interrupted; he took Katya firmly by the arm and looked down into her eyes. "Nothing funny, ya'hear? This is serious shit, those fuckers mean business and I ain't got the nerve to drag any injured back." Katya shuffled away from Aaron and simply nodded.

"I heard you." She turned back to Adrian and put her smile back on. "Remember the plan?"

"Drive the truck?" Adrian scoffed, "Yeah, I don't think I could get that part wrong." He smiled at his self-deprecation.

Katya chuckled and reached out, squeezing his arm. "Don't worry though, my father wouldn't have taken the risk if he wasn't sure we're all going to come out okay. As much of a hard ass as he is, he cares for everyone."

"Alright, as soon as I disengage the lock, the door's gonna slide open. You ready for a possible welcoming party?" Everyone took up positions behind the vehicles, weapons drawn. "You sure you want me to do this? Once I open this, there's no closing it."

"Just open the fucking door!" The general snapped. Stanley winced and took one of the electrical implements from his pouch.

Flicking it on he brought the sparking end down upon the exposed circuitry. He sighed as the wires hissed and the red and green lights slowly faded. "And the monkey rings the doorbell."

X X X

The blood in Adrian's temples pounded as the door slid to the side, revealing nothing short of utter carnage and chaos. Overturned cars, broken windows, charred bodies, decomposing skeletons, all dotted the rancid and decaying streets. But to everyone's utter joy, not a mutant zombie in sight. As everyone relaxed their trigger fingers, and came out from behind their hiding places, the General began giving orders.

"Alright everyone." He said as he jumped into the passenger seat of the scout car. "We don't have the luxury of time on our sides, only surprise. Once we've been found out, we're effectively done here. Now Adrian," He said directing his attention towards the truck. "Take the first left, then your next two rights, that will put you guys in the industrial district. From there Slick, Aaron, me and Katya will do the rest. Ivan will stay with Yuri, and Stanley will be your back up. Everyone understand?" When no one protested or said otherwise, the general signaled to Ivan, who revved the cars engine and flew off down the street.

Since the scout car was smaller, it had an easier time maneuvering around the debris that littered the streets. But since Adrian had to take his time moving around cars and taking a small detour around the fallen northern section of a post office, he had the chance to appreciate the damage that had been done to the city.

"Jesus, what happened here?" His throat went dry at the sight of several bodies hanging from nooses at the top of what seemed like a city hall building. One of the bodies had a sign draped around the neck, reading "the end has already come once, why once more?", most likely alluding to the Combine occupation.

"Some resistance members, escapees from the nearest Combine controlled urban center, occupied this town a couple of years back, and started giving refuge to anyone willing to fight against the Overwatch. A buddy and me were actually going to run here, before we heard the Combine had found it. They shelled it with their parasites; an entire community, completely unaware, destroyed not in an instant, but over time. I don't even want to think about what it must have been like to have survived, waiting only for the monsters to find you." Stanley angrily muttered.

"Jesus, anyone who survived this must have been crazier than a shit house rat." Aaron said, starring out the window, clutching his rifle close.

As the commercial district of the city gave way to warehouses and loading cranes, the street lights became few and far between, and Adrian strained to find his way through the maze of corrugated steel.

"There, turn right there." Slick said, poking her head up from the map she had been reading. Adrian pulled a hard right and immediately saw the smaller set of headlights from Sasha's group. Slowing down to a stop next to them, Adrian could barely see out the window and into the car next to them, it was still so dark. As he stared more intently, two red eyes popped into existence inches from his own, and Adrian jumped letting out a yelp of fear.

The eyes bobbled, and a small giggling came from behind the window. Suddenly, a flashlight lit up the face of Katya, her night vision goggles draped over her face. Adrian's heartbeat slowed and the blood ran back to his face, and he rolled down the window.

"Don't do that!" He whispered, but Katya was still giggling, her face shoved in her arm to muffle the sound.

"Okay, okay, sorry, but you should have seen the look on your face." She replied.

"Alright, enough!" The General said. "Come on, we got a job to do. Katya come over here." He waved his daughter over. Stanley and the others left the car, but Adrian stayed put, it was his job to be ready to move at a moment's notice. He watched Katya follow her father over behind the car, and saw the general curtly address her, and simultaneously point to Adrian, the girl shook her head and stuck her chin out defiantly, and soon the general relented. Dejected, he walked over to Adrian and shoved a hand held radio into the driver's side window. "Keep your eyes open and your ears sharp, you hear anything, you tell me. You hear us coming, you make sure your ready to go."

"Yes, sir." Adrian tried the response, and found he liked it. The general simply nodded and turned to join Katya, Slick, and Aaron.

"Yuri and Ivan are going to follow us to the number 24C warehouse, they'll guard the entrance, and we'll get inside and grab the goods. Once we have them secured, I'll radio Adrian, and we'll all get the hell out of here." Everyone nodded and the General pointed them down the long corridor of warehouses. "Okay, its right around the corner. Stay tight, and keep sharp."

X X X

Adrian had his feet propped up and out the window as he lay back in the seat, listening to the dead silence of the streets outside. Stanley sat next to him, not saying a word, to afraid to miss a sound. Not that there was anything to listen to, everyone was dead, in the literal sense. Even the crickets seemed to have left this place. In the distance Adrian heard a loud slamming sound.

"That'd be them opening up the warehouse." Stanley said matter-of-factly. Adrian nodded in reply and pulled the pistol from his holster and rested it on his lap.

"_We're entering the warehouse now. Seems undisturbed."_ The voice of Sasha crackled on the radio, and Adrian relaxed his tense shoulders somewhat, it was good to hear what was going on.

"_Jesus, this place is loaded. We're gonna need two of the transports just to truck everything out."_ Aaron's amazed voice came over the radio.

"_Only what will fit in the truck. Take in order of priority; rations, then ammo, then med supplies."_ Slick's voice interrupted.

"_Yeah, yeah I heard you. But jesus, look at this." _There was silence on the comset for a moment. _"Does this look like the model MP7 to you, Slick?"_

More silence, then Slick's approving tone. _"Why yessir it does. That crate goes first, Katya find the ammo crates to go along with it."_

Adrian listened intently for Katya to speak. He didn't want to seem over interested, but it would have been nice just to hear she was still there. But when she didn't reply, he just assumed she had made a physical gesture of acknowledgement.

"_Ima load me up one of these right now."_ Adrian and Stanley heard Aaron say. _"These babies hold more than the model MP5, and are more accurate to boot." _

"Come on, Aaron, work now, play later." Stanley muttered into the radio.

"_Hey computer jockey, you come over here and do my job, instead of sitting in that cozy truck, then you tell me that again."_ Aaron spat back and Stanley rolled his eyes.

"_I want those crates over there, and the MP7's, and that crate over there has some shells for Stella, get them too."_ The general ordered the other three. _"Adrian, we're going to need you and Stanley over here in a few."_

"You got it general." Stanley said into the handheld and nodded to Adrian. "Leave in ten."

X X X

Only seven minutes had passed by when the screams began. From behind the truck and above, the yelps and moans first began as separate, staccato sounds, but soon became one continuous moan. Stanley sat up straight in his chair and his eyes bulged open. Grabbing a shotgun from behind the chair, he pumped it once and stuck his head out the window and retracted it with one quick motion.

"Nothing." But the moans persisted. Adrian took the weapon from his lap and clicked off the safety, his vision kept intently on the rear view mirror. Stanley reached for the radio, to inform the general, but before he could say anything the device came to life with news of its own.

"_Jesus! Where did they come from?_" Aaron screamed, and gunfire roared over the cacophony of zombie moans.

"_Slick, Aaron, five o'clock! We've got runners!"_ The general screamed.

"_Stanley, Adrian!"_ The frantic voice of Yuri yelled over the radio. _"The fuckers just appeared out of nowhere! Get over here quick! The door's been hit and it's slid down, cutting us off, and trapping the general inside!"_

Before Yuri was even done with his message, Adrian had his foot all the way down on the pedal, Katya's safety the only thing on his mind. The truck sped down the short corridor and came to a jolting stop in front of the warehouse, next to the parked scout car, the roar of gunfire continuing on inside.

Yuri stood at the door, pulled up with all his might, his clothes damp with sweat and his weapon on the ground next to him. As he saw the other two pull up he stopped his futile effort and ran to meet them.

"It's not going to budge!" He pointed towards the roof of the warehouse. "Ivan's climbed up top to see if he can get in that way."

"_Oh god!"_ Slick's sceaming voice pierced their conversation. _"Aaron! Aaron! To your right!"_ Followed by a burst of shotgun fire then more silence.

"_We need some help in here!"_ The General yelled over the radio.

Yuri grabbed the radio from Adrian's hand and spoke into it. "We're on our way, General, hang in there."

"_Wow, Slick"_ Aaron began over the moans of the undead and the burst of submachine fire. _"Wouldn't this be easier if we had some of those contact grenades? Hell if we had ANY GRENADES PERIOD?"_

"_Shut up and shoot!"_ Adrian heard Katya's voice over the fury of activity and his heart leapt.

"Yuri, how did Ivan get up there?" Yuri pointed to the side of the warehouse.

"A ladder, around the side!" Adrian nodded.

"Okay, okay." He breathed deep, he had to figure out a plan. "I need a gun…I need a rifle." His eye was caught by the glint of metal in the back of the scout car. "I need that!" He pointed to sniper rifle sitting in the storage compartment of the jeep.

Pulling the weapon out and slinging it behind his back, he made a dash for the ladder.

"Adrian! What are you doing?" Stanley called out, him and Yuri following him around the side. "What do you need the Sig for? Do you even know how to shoot it?"

Adrian already had a foot on the firs step when he turned to the other two. "Do you?" Stanley didn't say anything, neither did Yuri. "Okay, you guys get to the front. I'm going to see if I can open it from the inside." Yuri and Stanley nodded and ran back to the front.

Adrian climbed the ladder attached to the side of the warehouse, and listened to the gunfire inside. As the bullets ricocheted off the walls, and Adrian brought one foot above the other, he wondered exactly _what_ he was doing. He didn't know how to fire the rife, nor did he really know if he could open the door from the inside. But as the fighting grew more intense, and the moaning grew louder and hungrier, Adrian's resolve tore through his trepidation, and his climbing became more deliberate, until he found himself on the metal roof of the structure.

"Okay, alright, entrance, skylight, anything!" He muttered as he ran across the roof, looking for some kind of vent or opening that Ivan used to get inside. He nearly fell into it, though, when he found the broken skylight Ivan must have used.

Dropping down into the catwalks above the chaos, Adrian immediately took stock of the situation, and it wasn't good. The team had barricaded themselves behind several crates, and were desperately fighting to ward off the hoard.

"Come on, you fuckers! You want some?" Aaron let off several rounds from his FN P90 submachine gun, tearing through several lumbering zombies, only to have them replaced with more. "Oh you want some too?" He continued.

"Slick! Watch the left side!" The general screamed, his MP5 jumping in his hands, sending a stream of death in all directions. Adrian searched frantically for Katya, though, as he traversed the rafters in an attempt to find the door.

"Aaron! Slick! Help!" Adrian stopped dead in his tracks at the sound of Katya's voice. Peering though the darkness, he made out the form of Katya, stuck behind several boxes, her small, silenced machine pistol roaring uselessly against the horde.

The general turned his attention away from his right flank and over to Katya. "Damnit! Aaron! Give her some cover!" But Aaron was too distracted by the dozen zombies in front of him.

"Sasha! I can't! They're gonna tear through us if I do!" As his P90 went dry, he dropped it and whipped the dual pistols from his holsters and carefully picked his shots, each powerful magnum round downing an opponent.

Adrian's blood ran cold, and his mind raced. What could he do? The weight of the rifle on his back reminded him he could do something, if he only tried. But he didn't know how to shoot a sniper rifle, did he?

Pulling the SSG 3000 sniper rifle from behind him, time seemed to slow down as he brought it up to rest against the railing of the catwalk. Looking into the scope, he saw the undead lurch forward, each step closer to Katya, whose face was twisted in a grimace of fear. Pulling the action back on the rifle, Adrian lost himself.

The targets in the scope slowed to a crawl, each one becoming like a large, blood covered bulls eye. His finger rested on the trigger and he repeated a mantra to himself he had long ago forgotten.

"Breath, hold it, exhale, and…" The muscle in his trigger finger flinched, and the 7.62mm round flew through the air faster than the speed of sound, and slammed into the lumpy headcrab poised upon the decaying body. The zombie was slammed against the wall by the force of the bullet. "fire." He finished.

Adrian pulled the action back, ejecting the spent shell casing, all in a matter of several seconds. But before the small metal casing even hit the catwalk, Adrian had pulled off another shot, and soon another. His successive shots repeated almost machine gun style until he pulled the action, ejecting the last casing, and the receiver pinged close, signaling the clip was empty, but so was his scope. The pile of Zombie bodies before Katya frightened her almost as much as the living ones scuffling towards her did. Her eyes searched the catwalk for her unknown savior, but it was too dark to see.

Pulling down her nightvision goggles, she only had enough time to catch a glimpse of a human figure, his crouching form slowly rising. Before she could catch a better view, the screeching howl of a fast zombie pierced her ears and she turned to fire, hoping her guardian angel wouldn't disappear just yet.

Adrian's breath was heavy and labored. He held the sniper rifle with a death grip, his mind racing, wondering just what the hell happened. His reflexes were lightning quick, his aim dead on, where had this skill come from? What was happening to him?

Before he even heard the sound of the footsteps on the catwalk, he sensed the presence. Over the yelp of the scattered gunfire, the team was making headway over the zombie horde, Adrian heard the quiet tap tap of combat boots upon the steel grating of the catwalk.

_No time to reload the rifle, nor to turn and aim._ His mind, working faster than before, assessed the threat.

Moving with the skill of a trained assassin, Adrian waited until the boots were almost right next to him, before his hand flung to the pistol holstered at his side, and whipped it out to meet his assailant head on.

"Don't fire." A calm, yet authoritative voice spoke. Adrian's trigger finger flinched slightly, but thankfully the pistol's trigger wasn't so sensitive. His breathing calming, Adrian slowly turned.

"You have some real serious explaining to do…"

X X X

"Aaron! Cover to the left!" The general shouted and pointed for effect. He then turned to Slick, her shotgun running severely low on shells. "Slick! I want you to concentrate the rest of your fire on the front! We need an exit strategy!" The General looked towards the closed warehouse door, even if he could open it, between him and the door stood several lumbering zombie corpses, all bent on feeding on him and his team.

But at least they had made some progress, with a little help. Without nightvision goggles, the general couldn't scan the walkways up top to see who had been covering them with the sniper rifle. Most likely it had been Ivan, but why had he stopped firing?

Not enough time to find out, Sasha concluded, as he raised his reloaded MP5 and let out another burst of fire. He kept a very vigilant eye on Katya, over to their left, though still cut off. She had been keeping her own well enough, with help from their friend up top, but her small machine pistol would soon be out of ammo.

Katya fired for what seemed like forever on automatic, which wasn't smart. Her ammo was running desperately dry. Her trigger finger was beginning to become sore, and her firing became more erratic, but she had to hold on, she had to fight her way back to the main group.

As two more runners barreled around the main group of slower zombies, Katya pulled her sights away and aimed for them. Letting off several well placed rounds, the first fell dead, but his partner scuttled out of the way of her bullets, leaping over the boxes she used for cover and scrambling, like some nightmare from the bowels of hell, over towards her. Training her aim on the menace her finger fell hard against the trigger, and she waited for the zombie to fall.

Only it didn't.

The soft click click click in her ears was more deafening than all the gunshots she'd heard. It signaled she was out of ammunition. Dropping the gun, Katya yelled for help, as she fell to the ground, trying to miss the leaping monster. Pulling a 9mm pistol from her hip, she scrambled to her feet and took aim, but the monster had grow to anticipate her movements and strafed left and right, avoiding her fire.

Deciding she had overstayed her welcome, Katya ran out from behind the boxes, and skirted around the zombie fray, ducking and strafing to miss their deadly grasps until she had finally rounded around to a ladder leading up to one of the catwalks. Jumping up to catch the high hanging ladder she pulled herself up with what littler strength she had left and nearly catapulted herself onto the steel ledge. She quickly got to her feet and ran down the catwalk, turning slightly to look behind her.

Damn, she thought, seeing the galloping form of the runner behind her. She threw her pistol out behind her and pulled off several shots before one connected with the mid section of the beast, sending it sprawling, but not dead, at least it bought her some time. She turned around and ran down the catwalk as fast as she could, hoping that she could circle around the perimeter of the warehouse, and meet back up with the team.

But before she could even make it halfway around she found herself stopped by a break in the catwalk, where a small loading crane had crashed from the ceiling and through the walkway. The gap was only six feet wide, easily traversable, except for the fact that the metal on the other end was bent in such a way it resembled more a pit of stakes from an old Indiana Jones movie. Turning to look behind her, she found that the zombie had regained his footing and was again in hot pursuit.

Whipping out her pistol she pulled off three quick shots, before her sidearm ran dry. With the grace of a cheetah the runner avoided each shot. Dropping the empty weapon, Katya looked down the crevasse created by the destroyed catwalk. About ten feet below her were several boxes half covered by a large tarp. Far enough away from any zombies, Katya took a deep breath, and took a running jump across the opening in the walkway. Her hands flailed, hoping to catch an edge that wasn't razor sharp.

Her hands, though, didn't reach far enough, and she fell the ten feet, landing on top of the decaying wooden boxes. Smashing through several, she finally came to rest. Her back hurt immensely and she rubbed the back of her aching head.

Trying to pull herself up from the prone position, Katya wasn't prepared when the runner jumped from the ledge about and slammed down in top of her. Neither the prey, nor the predator was ready when the floor fell out from underneath them, and they fell down a refuse chute. The fast zombie clawed at Katya as they slid down the pipe, giving her several painful, yet not fatal, wounds.

The two slid this way and that, following the metal chute down its path, until Katya was finally able to catch the edges with her boots and wedge herself self within the chute, letting the zombie tumble down. Catching her labored breath, Katya looked up, hoping that she could crawl her way back up. Taking one foot then the other, she carefully shimmied back up the pipe. It wasn't long, though, before her boot came up against a small puddle of her own blood, and it lost its traction, sending her tumbling back down the chute.

"No!" She screamed, her bruised and battered body falling back down. She braced herself for the impact, and feared that the zombie would still be lurking, waiting, for her to slide right into its meaty maw. Slamming into the dumpster, Katya's vision blurred momentarily. Finally her body jolted awake, and her wounds became painfully apparent. Rubbing her eyes, she grabbed for something to pull herself up with.

But when her hands met flesh, slimy flesh, she froze. Slowly turning to see what she found, Katya screamed louder than before. Her hands had come to rest on the cranium of the same fast zombie that had hunted her. Irrationally scared of the stationary enemy, she recoiled and scrambled for the other side of the dumpster. Calming, and realizing the animal wasn't moving, she scuttled forward to see what had happened. Slowly, cautiously, she inspected the body, and found it had landed on a pile of twisted metal, the rusted points jammed harshly into the sinewy body.

Poking her head out of the dumpster, Katya found herself in yet another dark ally, lit at both ends by dim, flickering street lights, but the middle section completely encased in black. Reaching for the nightvision goggles, laying by her side. Katya pulled them over her eyes, and flicked them on.

It wasn't good. She suppressed a gasp, the sight that filled the goggles' receptors showed a scene of utter horror. Half eaten bodies, rotting limbs and torsos, all strewn about the ally. But what even more terrifying was the preponderance of zombie corpses laying face down or against the brick walls. Were they dead, she thought. She wouldn't know until they pulled themselves to their feet and uttered those moans of undeniable hunger. Up and down the ally they lay, and Katya couldn't see a way to get around them, save wander straight through them.

Above and behind her, she could still hear the scattered gunshots of her father and the rest of the team. She could only hope they were doing better than she.

Swallowing her fear, Katya put both hands on the side of the dumpster and flipped over the side, landing silently on the concrete, next to a half eaten hand. With speed and stealth taught to her by Ivan, she maneuvered about the bodies like a ballerina.

Almost there, her mind told her. Just a few more graceful leaps and…

She slipped, in a pool of blood next to decapitated torso. Her feet came out from under her and her body fell on top of the corpses. She let out a gasp, though not in surprise at having fallen, but in shock at the thought of what would happen next. She lay there, frozen for several seconds, listening intently to the silence of the ally.

Two minutes, and nothing stirred. Another five minutes, and nothing still. Her trembling hands pushed against the cold corpse and she raised herself up. Looking around, she found nothing out of place, no zombies shuffling her way.

Careful not to make the same mistake again, Katya scanned the ground for more slippery puddles of blood as she continued her pirouette across the ally. And as she came to the t-intersection of the ally, she let out a sigh of relief. But it was short lived as a huge thud, an explosion ripped through the still night air, from inside the warehouse. Katya stood at the end of the ally, her breath stolen. And as if on cue several of the bodies twitched, and bloody, needle-like claws pulled dismembered corpses from the blood-soaked concrete. Katya willed herself to move, and turned to her right, fleeing down the next ally, searching for a way around the maze of warehouses.

But her way was blocked by yet another horde of the undead, shuffling their way down the ally. At the sight of fresh, living flesh, they moaned in unison and their awkward gait sped up, the scent of blood on their noses. Katya backed up and ran the opposite way. Running past the ally in which she had just come out, the other crowd of zombies greeted her, their arms outstretched. Several swiped at her, and one made contact, its germ infested fingers digging deep into the flesh of her back. Screaming out in pain, Katya scrambled away and half jogged, half limped down the ally, searching for somewhere to offer her safety.

The ally ended near the intersection of a dimly lit street, and she fled across the pavement, her predators in hot pursuit. Her sights set on a small, nondescript building across the street, the Russian word for post office painted above the door, she ran up to the door and grabbed the knob, twisting it with all her strength, yet unable to gain access.

"Fuck!" she screamed as she beat on the door, tears forming in her eyes. Running back down to the sidewalk she wrenched a small brick out of the crumbling sidewalk and chucked it through the adjacent window. The smashing of the glass was overshadowed by the moan of the undead across the street from her, pouring in from the ally. Her body still wracked with pain, she climbed in through the window and landed on a hard linoleum floor. Her wounds almost overpowering her, Katya pulled herself and ran deeper into the office, her breathing labored.

By now the pounding at the door had signaled her guests arrival, and she frantically searched for a back door. Throwing open a door at the back of the building, she held her breath, and hoped for an exit, but was instead greeted with a set of stairs going down, supposedly to a basement.

"No, no!" She screamed. She wouldn't get out of here, she would die in this god-forsaken town, without even the ability to end her own life. Turning away from the crumbling stairway, Katya gasped and stepped back several feet at the sight of a figure silhouetted in the dim moonlight. Her didn't move and Katya was afraid a zombie had found its way inside, or that the whole lot had finally burst in. She back up further and the figure followed each step.

"Whoa!" Katya yelled as she felt the ground give way and she fell backwards into the stairwell, her body tumbling and thumping against the soft, decaying wood. She finally came to rest at the bottom, on soft, yielding dirt. Her vision failing, and the pain from the gash in her back finally taking over, Katya began to slip into unconciousness. As she did, the sounds of several powerful gunshots tore through the air, followed by maniacal laughter.

Then a set of steps hurrying down the stairs, and finally hands holding her up, examining her wounds. Katya had lost all her strength, and the mystery figure took her in his arms, his voice soothing her pain.

"Do not worry my child, I will protect you from the wolves."

**A/N: I'm baaaaaaaack! Expect longer chapters and quicker updates now that school is finally over! Hope you're all still enjoying the story and to those of you that have reviewed, this story is truly made for you and your wonderful comments! Keep em comin'! **


	15. Explosive Exits and Rash Desicions

_I wanna live, i wanna leave, i wanna open up and breathe  
i wanna go, i wanna be, i wanna feel it constantly  
gotta show, gotta say, i've gotta feeling that wont go away  
i've gotta know if they got away, my opportunities..._

_Just one chance is all i ever wanted  
just one time i'd like to win the game  
from now on i'll take the chance if i can have it  
just one just one_

_i need to think, i need to feed, i need to see if i still bleed  
i need a place, i need a time, 'cause i need to step outside that line  
gonna give, gonna take, i'm gonna scream 'til i am awake  
i'm gonna push, i'm gonna pull, open up the door..._

_Just One - Hoobastank_

-Shephard's Story-

-Explosive Exits and Rash Decisions-

"You've got some real serious explaining to do…" Ivan stood poised over Shephard, his rifle hanging limply to his side, the gunfight still raging below. Shephard just froze, his mind a flurry of questions of his own. What had he done? What was wrong with him? "Like how you just popped off over a dozen zombies without a single miss, something I probably couldn't even do." His eyes bored holes into Adrian's.

But Adrian was saved the awkward conversation by a ricocheting bullet that whizzed pass the pair, and Ivan dropped the topic, in favor of taking up a position next to Adrian, his AK-47 pointed toward the ground in an effort to help his friends.

Scanning the area near the door, Adrian looked for the jamming in the lever mechanism that was keeping their escape firmly locked shut. Ivan's weapon blasted off several shots and Adrian almost had to cover his ears, the report was so loud. But as he brought his hands up to his ears, the clattering of rapid footsteps on the metal catwalk behind them prickled his senses. His mind, still working on overdrive, assessed the threat before he even turned around. His pistol lay on the floor next to him.

_Not enough time to pick it up._ His mind computed the movement time almost instantaneously. Taking a split second to figure out an alternative, Adrian heard the growling predator approach them almost in slow motion. Ivan's weapon still covering his friends from above, was still unaware, and as the growling and the clattering continued, Adrian's mind chose the only viable solution available.

In a split second Adrian tensed his body, ready for the impact, and swiftly turned to meet his adversary. In one quick motion he brought his foot up in a spiral kick and knocked the fast zombie in the midsection, sending it sprawling. Quickly getting to its feet, the monster brought its claws out in a gesture of anger, howling as it did. But that extra time was all Shephard needed. Eying the knife Ivan had strapped to his thigh, he yanked it out of its sheath and taking time to compensate for the target's movement, threw it by its tip. The knife sailed through the air, and caught the monster in the squirming parasite atop its cranium.

The runner continued its frantic gait towards them, but Adrian simply stood his ground. And as the creature came several feet from the pair, it finally tumbled and fell face first into the grating, sliding almost to Adrian's feet.

"You're just full of surprises aren't you?" Ivan said, waling up to the zombie and wrenching the knife from the headcrab. Wiping it against his leg and resheathing it, he took his position back up. "We'll talk about this later, you try to find a way to open the door. Here" He tossed a radio to Adrian, who nodded and pocketed it.

Jogging down the catwalk towards the side that Sasha was on, he was finally able to see the door. But it didn't look like it would be opening anytime soon. As Shephard descended a ladder next to the huge door, he found that the track the door was supposed to slide up and down upon had been torn apart by a shotgun blast, probably in the chaos. The door couldn't ascend up the track, effectively looking them inside.

"Sasha! The door's not going to be moving any time soon!" He yelled into the radio.

Sasha finished off another zombie and looked up to Adrian, surprise plastered across his face. "Adrian! What the hell are you doing up there? Never mind, find us a way out!" Adrian nodded curtly and slid the rest of the way down the ladder, finally letting go several feet from the ground and landing near a group of zombies.

Landing gracefully as a cat, he eyed the zombies, who all turned towards him. Sprinting around the outskirts, he scanned the perimeter of the building for a door or ventilation duct.

A feminine scream pierced the air and Adrian looked across the warehouse. Katya was climbing up onto one of the walkways attached to the warehouses walls, several zombies on her heels.

"Katya!" He screamed. But she couldn't hear him, she was too busy fending for her life. As she hauled herself onto the metal grating, Adrian saw her take off, towards the back the warehouse, a runner on her heels. "Shit!" Adrian growled, as he ducked to avoid the swipe of a zombie who'd stumbled too close for comfort.

Scrambling among boxes of supplies and ammunition, Adrian kept an eye on Katya, who had just emptied her clip at the approaching zombie. Adrian threw several boxes aside, frantically searching for an exit. Instant meals, boxes of bullets, and several caches of grenades toppled over as pushed his way towards the office, he hoped the warehouse had.

In the dim light, he could see the outline of a small window, the type made with wire mesh embedded, so as to add strength and shatterproof it. Adrian sighed in relief and threw over one more box, revealing the door.

From behind him he heard another scream, and looked upwards. Katya was in midair, grasping desperately for the ruined end the catwalk, but falling pitifully short. Adrian's focus left the office door and he moved to follow her, watching her smash onto the decaying boxes below.

"_Adrian! We're running out of ammo, and these suckers aren't giving up! What have you got for us?"_ Adrian stopped dead, his mind muddled and confused. He needed to find them a way out, and he was sure the office had an emergency exit, but he couldn't be sure, while on the other hand the urge to help Katya was too over powering.

"But Katya…!" Adrian began.

"_I know! You just find us a way out; she knows what she's doing! Now go!"_ Sasha screamed, as his submachine gun let off another burst.

Adrian frowned, and turned back toward the office. Kicking in the decrepit door, he let his eyes adjust to the even dimmer lighting, searching for something, anything.

But there was nothing, save several chairs and a desk piled with papers long since yellowed. Adrian slammed his fist down on the desk and growled in frustration.

"Damnit! There' nothing here!" He screamed into the radio. Running back into the warehouse, he leapt over several boxes, making a mad dash for Katya.

But she was gone. Where she had landed was now an open pit, a refuse disposal that had been blocked, until Katya had fallen on top of it.

"Katya's not here!" He informed the rest, but he doubt they heard him over the roar of the gunfire as it grew more intense.

Eyeing the garbage chute, Adrian made the only logical decision; to him at least, he thought there was.

He jumped after her.

X X X

Everyone had heard Adrian over the radio, but no one wanted to believe it. First there was no way out, and now one of their number had disappeared.

Sasha cursed as he reloaded his MP5.

"Sir what are we going to do now?" Slick yelled over the roar of her shotgun.

"I don't know, I don't know!" He yelled. "Gimme a second to think…" But they didn't have a second, as the zombies pooled their forces and attacked in earnest.

"Shit I'm out!" Aaron screamed, dropping his pistols. He began searching through boxes fanatically, looking for something deadlier than just his hands.

"_General."_ Yuri yelled into the radio. _"You've stirred up the hive, we'll be crawling with them soon if you don't get out of there!"_

Aaron threw open the top of a long green crate, his eyes suddenly widening, his mouth curling into a wicked smile. "Well hello, beautiful…"

"Ok, ok. Here's what we're going to do." The General pointed to Slick. "You need to…" But the general didn't have time to finish his plan before an intense explosion rocked the warehouse.

Gore and intestines flew in all different directions, some coming to rest on top of Sasha and Slick prone bodies. Once the ringing in his ears ceased, Sasha looked up to see a very smug Aaron, an RPG supported over his left shoulder.

"What the _fuck_ is your problem?" The general, red in the face, jumped to his feet. "You could have taken out the whole building for christ's sake!" But Aaron just continued to smile that arrogant smile.

"Yeah… I could've, or I could've just taken out an entire roomful of zombies…" Sasha turned to his left and saw that the seething, writing mass of zombies was now no more than a wriggling mess of gore.

"_Messy… but effective."_ Ivan said into the radio, from up above.

"Alright, I'll give you that." The general began. "But now we need to find us a way out."

"Oh, I already got that covered…" Aaron said pulling the missile launcher up, and turning on the red sight.

"Wait, no!" Sasha started, but he knew was coming, and he dropped to the ground.

X X X

"What the hell do you supposed that boom was?" Stanley said, still trying to pull the garage door up. "Are they okay? Try the radio!"

Yuri brought the radio up to his mouth, but the deafening roar the metal wall of the warehouse ripping open stopped them in their tracks. The wall next to the door split open with an almost animal groan. The two men were knocked back by the blast.

"What the?" Stanley said, his ears ringing and his head throbbing.

"You _stupid_ bastard!" They heard the general yell, and finally saw his form crawling through the twisted metal portal. "You've woken up the entire town by now!" He was quickly followed by Aaron and Slick, who each carried a box of supplies.

"Here." Aaron said, shoving the heavy box into Stanley's hands, the weight nearly bringing the small man to his knees. "Load this shit into the van, our 'element of surprise' is blown, we need to get the hell outta dodge."

"Yeah, thanks in no small portion to you!" Stanley spat back. Aaron just waved him off and ran inside to grab several more boxes.

"Yuri…" Sasha said.

"Where's Katya…" The general reached for his radio.

"Adrian? Adrian do you read me?" But he was only greeted with silence.

"Where are they?"

"Somewhere out there." The general looked off in the direction of the residential district.

"Sweet mother Russia," Yuri gasped. "We need to find them, the creatures are sure to be out in force."

The general just nodded, and turned back the rest, still loading boxes.

"Everybody stop, we need to find Adrian and Katya. Drop what your doing and grab a gun." Everyone but Aaron stopped loading boxes. "You too Aaron." The tall, burly man shot Sasha a glare.

"No way in _hades_ are you making me go out there. I ain't no hero."

"I'm not asking you to be one, I'm _telling _you to be one." Aaron huffed and set the box down, pulling an MP7 submachine gun from it.

"You just best be glad you're the man in charge, Sasha."


	16. The Two Shephards

_So glad to see you have overcome them  
Completely silent now  
With heaven's help  
You've cast your demons out  
And not to pull your halo down  
Around your neck and tug you off your cloud  
But I'm more than just a little curious  
How you're plannin' to go about makin' your amends  
To the dead  
To the dead_

_Recall the deeds as if they're all  
Someone else's  
Atrocious stories  
Now you stand reborn  
Before us all  
So glad to see you well_

The Noose – A Perfect Circle

Shephard's Story

-The Two Shephards-

Adrian slowly slid down the garbage chute, his hands bracing himself against the side to keep him from plummeting faster than he could control. But his mind was not concentrating on the unknown below, only Katya, and the lack of any discernable weapon.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid." He chided himself, what a fine mess he'd gotten himself into. As the chute bent, and became almost level, Adrian let his hands fall to his sides and he fell the rest of the way.

Sliding out into the same garbage bin Katya had found herself in earlier. Adrian was just as surprised to see the dead corpse of the zombie runner.

"Jesus!" He sucked in a breath and crawling backwards towards the edge. Finally realizing the creature wouldn't be moving anytime soon, Adrian slowly turned and surveyed his surroundings. Peering into the darkness and letting his eyes adjust, he found he was alone in a blood soaked alley. Everywhere he looked, dried and drying blood stood in stagnant pools, splashed across walls, or streaked across the pavement. Adrian could only hope that none of that blood was Katya's.

One end of the alley ended in a t-intersection, while the other was lit by a small lamp and rounded to the left. Feeling more comfortable heading towards the light source, and sure that Katya must have done the same, he headed towards the end of the alley that bent towards the left.

Keeping his body tight against the wall, Adrian skirted around the light, feeling safer to be near it, but ever careful not to let his figure be caught in it, he looked down the alley as it headed left. Several meters down it ended as it hit the streets of the commercial and residential districts, the intersection up ahead lit by several streetlights.

A growl, and several clattering feet rushed overhead, and Adrian pressed himself even tighter against the wall of the warehouse and kept his gaze skyward, towards the source of the sound. Two forms, emaciated and snarling, leapt over the alley, from rooftop to rooftop, and continued on their prowl, their nostrils sniffing out the flesh of the living.

Afraid that the smell of his fear and perspiration would give away his position, Shephard quickly and quietly jogged down the side of the building, searching for a door to hide in.

Gently pulling open the large metal door of the building, Adrian winced at the slight screeching that gave way as the unoiled hinges fought against the intrusion. But soon he found himself in utter darkness again, as the door closed behind him and several pairs of feet clattered over the rooftop above him.

Once he thought the zombies had passed, Shephard slowly began to look around, rubbing his eyes and searching for a light switch. He found himself in a garage type area; the silhouettes of old cars decaying in the night air and boxes of machine parts dotted the small repair shop.

Next to a shop table, Adrian gently maneuvered in front of it and began to pull out the drawers. His ears prickled at the sharp sounds of tools clattering slightly as he searched the small table.

His hands stopped moving, though, as they came to rest on the heavy weight of the maglight flashlight. Dusting it off, Adrian hefted the heavy flashlight and searched for the rubber button. His thumb passed over it and he said a silent prayer to whatever deity was watching over him and depressed the button.

His eyes turned to slits as the brilliant light flooded the room. He quickly cupped his hand over the end, trying not to attract any unwelcome attention. When he was sure the small light show hadn't given him away, he slowly took his hand off and aimed the flashlight around the room. Nothing but rusty and dusty cars, several pieces of machinery, and the workbench.

His eyes scanning the myriad of tools hanging behind the chest of drawers, Adrian took stock of what looked useful.

A screwdriver? No, Adrian thought, not enough weight. A hammer? Gruesome, but not effective. A crowbar? God no, what idiot would use a crowbar? But as his eyes fell upon the drop forged red wrench hanging from a nail above the hacksaw, Adrian's interest was piqued.

Pulled it down and checking its weight, Adrian swung it slowly, approving of its reach.

"This'll do nicely." He grinned.

X X X

Finally armed and in possession of a flashlight, Adrian felt moderately safe enough to venture out of the garage and back out into the alley. Sure that the zombies had passed on and were busy with the ruckus the others had made, Adrian made his way towards the intersection. He needed to get his bearings and try and figure out what way Katya had gone.

Nearing the intersection, Adrian was frightened to see a group of zombies congregating around the front of a small building, its windows recently broken. The creatures pounded against the door and several shuffled around the sidewalk. Peeking out from behind the side of a burned out van, Adrian saw several bullet holes on the metal door of the post office looking building, fresh bullet holes. This had to be where Katya had been, but what could he do against a horde of walking corpses?

X X X

Back in the garage, Adrian rummaged through the trunks of the abandoned vehicles. He needed something that could give him enough of a diversion to distract the zombies and possibly dispatch a few. Throwing boxes left and right, Adrian was pleased when one of the plastic containers sloshed.

Pulling it out and uncapping it, Adrian inhaled the strong aroma of gasoline. This was one part of the equation; hopefully the other was near by. A small duffle bag was stuffed deep in the truck, and Adrian unzipped it, dumping it contents on the floor. A small orange road sign, a tire wrench, and several road flares.

Road flares, exactly what he needed.

Back at the workbench, Adrian pulled the drawers open again, aided this time with the flashlight, and pulled a roll of duct tape from its depths.

Laying the three objects out in front of himself, a plan began to form.

X X X

Crouching behind the same van, Adrian observed that nothing much had changed. The zombies still muddled around the front of the building, which was as silent and dead as before. Holding the container of gasoline in his hands, one of the road flares taped to its side, Adrian gauged the distance.

Too far to chuck it from his current position. He wouldn't have a good shot until he was out in the open. His hand on the tip of the flare, Adrian stepped out from behind the burned out hulk and into the light. Striding deliberately across the lighted intersection, he ripped the tip off of the flare and the red-hot phosphorus began to burn.

Only a few seconds now, he thought, and chucked the container in the direction of the horde. It slammed into the pavement and toppled end over end until it landed near the stoop and came to rest at the feet of several undead, which all turned towards the source of the strange object.

But before they could raise their mangled arms in alarm, Adrian was already sprinting for the safety of the van, diving behind it, clutching the wrench in one hand.

Only a few seconds ticked by, but they seemed long enough for Adrian to fear that his plan had failed. Raising his head and uncovering his ears, he could hear the gurgling and moaning as the zombies alerted the others.

But their cries for blood were short lived, as the flare burned through the plastic of the container and ignited the gasoline. The explosion tore the door off of its hinges and burst the nearby windows. Blood and gore sprayed the road and the surrounding buildings as the fireball reached high into the air.

"Haha! Burn you motherfuckers!" Adrian screamed over the roar of the explosion.

Nearly blown off his feet, Shephard staggered out from behind the van, and saw his plan had been a total success. Only several of the zombies had survived, but had been blown back several feet, and were only now crawling to their feet, grunting in anger, pain, and as always, hunger.

Shephard took off running, now being his only chance to make it to the building unopposed. Hoping over bodies and debris, he jumped through the threshold and into the building, his heart racing. Looking for something to barricade the door with, he soon realized that nothing inside seemed strong enough, nor large enough, to provide a sufficient obstruction to the zombies.

"Katya!" He yelled in the silence of the office. But he didn't receive a response. "Katya?" He said even quieter this time, his voice registering the idea of defeat.

As the creatures outside struggled up the steps, Adrian searched for another way out. Maybe Katya hadn't gone through here after all. But as he searched the two-room office, he only found a small door in the back, which seemed more suited to being a closet, than an actual exit.

But the zombies plodding towards him left Shephard with little choice, and he shut the small door behind him. Clicking the flight light on, he found himself at the top of a small staircase.

"Wow, in the dark this thing would have been easy to miss…" Adrian said quietly, and soon the shuffling outside the small door became more prevalent. His muscles tensing, Adrian slowly made his way down the stairs, not sure where they led.

His flashlight trained on the steps in front of him, he was surprised to see a set of footprint in the dust that covered the stairs. Crouching down near the bottom of the stairs, he could see the outline of several footsteps, and Adrian was filled with hope.

"Katya…" he nearly whispered. But upon further inspection, he found that the footsteps were made with someone wearing a pair of worn sneakers, visible by the fact that the majority of the design of the rubber sole seemed to be flat and featureless. But as he followed the stairs to the bottom, he found the hard concrete dug out, and the soft

Earth underneath exposed. At the base of the stairs, though, the dirt was severely disturbed, as if in a struggle. A small portion of the ground also seemed slightly wet, and Adrian rubbed it between his fingers, finding blood.

"Oh no…" he thought, what if Katya had been attacked by someone and drug down here? Adrian suddenly felt very exposed and flipped the flashlight up, taking a paranoid account of his surroundings. The basement seemed little more than a filing room, with several cabinets and desks set against the wall. But following the churned up concrete into the next room, Shephard found a large hole cut into the foundation, large enough for a man to walk through.

Focusing the light into the opening, he could see it lead right into a sewer system on the other side. Clutching the wrench tightly to his chest, Adrian stepped through the hole and into the ancient brick laden sewer. His boots stepped into ankle high muck and he quickly pulled it back, and examined the shoe. Seeing that it wasn't toxic, Adrian dropped down into the muck and pointed his flash out in each direction. To his left was block by a set of bars, which left him with only one other choice.

As he trudged through the grime and slime, he made sure to keep his ears sharp, so when his radio began to crackle and spout, he nearly died of fright.

"Ad…adria…come…come in!" He couldn't tell who it was, but it seemed to be limited by the concrete and his position underground. He tapped his radio and spoke slowly and softly.

"Hello? Hello anyone?" But he was only greeted with silence. Cursing slightly, he turned his light up and could several sewer grates high above. As he made his way down the system, he could see several forms shuffling above over the slits, and several grunts and shrill shrieks accompanied the forms.

Not watching his path through the sewer, Adrian was surprised when his foot came down into the muck, but sank several inches further than anticipated, soaking his leg up the mid section of his shin. Pulling it out quickly and splashing loudly, he shook his now stinking and sour foot.

"Great, just great." He muttered, staring at his boot. But out of the corner of his eye, his flashlight caught the silhouette of something in the murky water. Leaning down to get a better look, he was tempted to reach in, but a sense of hygiene and general fear kept him from doing so.

So when the claws of a subsurface zombie piercing the placid surface of the water, Adrian was knocked back in surprise. The zombie rose out of the water and cried in anger at having something disturb it. Adrian scuttled back, losing track of the wrench as the zombie came ever closer.

His hands frantically searched the cloudy water, grasping for the heavy wrench, and as the zombie towered over him, he almost thought it was over. As the zombie brought its hands up in an attempt to strike, Adrian took the chance to roll to the side, and the creature missed. But Shephard wouldn't have the same luck twice. His hands still running through the shallow water came across the bulky form of the wrench, and he brought it up just as the undead readied itself for another strike.

In a split second Adrian brought the wrench up and made a feeble attempt at swiping it across the face, pushing the creature backwards and knocking it off its balance. With the extra time he had garnered, Adrian stood up and held the wrench high above his head with both hands, set to make the killing blow.

The zombie regained its footing and stood upright, but it was knocked back as Shephard brought the heavy metal wrench down upon the lumpy headcrab perched atop the cranium.

"RAH!" he bellowed as he followed the swing though. Yellow blood splattered everywhere, some of it caking Adrian's sweater, and the zombie wobbled, finally falling back into the water.

Breathing heavily, Adrian coughed several times, and spat profusely, desperately trying to eject the mix of murky water and alien blood. Picking up his flashlight from out of the water, he shined it in both directions, making sure he hadn't attracted the wrong kind of attention and returned to trudging down the hall, leaving the zombie corpse floating atop the surface of the water.

X X X

The darkness made him think, made him think about himself. He was a strange man in an even stranger place. Shephard couldn't ponder his place in this world, not that he even knew that Shephard was his real name. He felt like a fake.

He felt like he had taken the clothing of some poor man, and used his name. He felt like he could be tarnishing the name of a good man. But in this world, the concept of good and evil seemed to be fuzzy at best. But his thoughts were suddenly drawn to the episode he had had in the warehouse. The event was blurred in his memory, but he remembered the rifle feeling like an extension of his body, and that it felt natural, even comfortable.

A symptom of adrenaline right? People do strange things when people they care about are in jeopardy. Like a mom lifting a car to save her baby. Adrian's brow furrowed at that thought. Someone _he_ cared about? He barely knew Katya, but what he did know…

She seemed so secretive, yet at the same time so alive. The world she lived in had taught her to keep certain things to herself. And when she had touched his hand and smiled…

But his reverie was broken, as he came to a halt in front of a large set of bars, which came down and obstructed his journey further. He turned back and flashed his light over the walls, thinking he maybe had missed an exit somewhere along the way, then brought it back to rest on the bars, his countenance turning sour. Was this some sort of joke? Or some successful attempt to trap him in the sewers, completely cut off and cornered.

A squeaking behind him made Adrian turn and flash his light along the wall of the sewer, where several mice skirted along the edge of the water. He watched them with interest until they disappeared behind a set of wooden sheets set against the wall of the sewer. When they come out the other side he slowly walked up to the boards, which were one and a half his height and a meter wide, and ever so carefully, pulled them away.

"I _knew_ it." Behind them was a small corridor, ending in a large metal maintenance door, the dust obscured, again, by the same set of prints. But this time another pair accompanied them; ever so often a pair of combat boots could be seen astride the sneakers, possibly indicating that Katya was still alive. Shephard smiled and felt his morale restore.

The door led into a small substation, with dials and indicators long since decayed from disuse. Several desks with yellowing paper and reports on waste distribution atop them, and another door, open, leading into a room filled with generators, sitting silent in the dim light.

His wrench holding menacingly out in front of him, Adrian followed the footprints through the large, open generator room, and up a set of stairs ending in a hallway. Several doors dotted the side, but the disturbed dust lead to the door at the end of the hall.

Pushing open the doors lead to a small courtyard covered in overgrown vegetation, and cordoned off by a chain link fence. Turning to look behind him he saw a large tower and guessed he had just come through some sort of sewage treatment plant.

Climbing over the fence wasn't a problem, but Adrian soon found himself more lost than he had been before. The tracks his mysterious quarry had left were no more, and Shephard was left with a cold scent. But the buildings around him looked more like a residential area than the commercial one he had come from. Looking down the street and off into the distance, his eye was caught by the tall church steeple. It towered over the crumbling houses, and the light that shown out of the space the bell must have once occupied pierced the night like a beacon. If there was anywhere else to go in this city, it seemed like that was the place.

X X X

Dead wasn't a good enough description of the streets Adrian walked. _Decimated_, he thought, seems a more adequate word. The main street he traversed was lined with decaying row houses, their paint long since peeled and fallen away. The wind rustled the branches of the dead trees lining the sidewalk, and caused several structures to creak, instilling a sudden sense of panic in the lone human.

Shepard stuck to the middle of the street, his sense of fear keeping him going anywhere near the dark ally ways that occasionally broke the monotony of the row houses, he couldn't be sure what creatures lurked there, waiting for an unsuspecting victim to fall prey to the darkness.

Looking up the street at his intended destination, the beacon that was the church tower, he couldn't see a route to make it there, because as he crept up the street, he saw that it ended with nothing more than another one of the lonely houses. Stopping in the middle of the street, Adrian shivered, this wasn't getting him anywhere.

Somewhere to his left, a gust of wind slammed a door shut, causing Adrian to jump. He needed find a cross street, something that could take him over another block, where he could find an entrance to the church.

Up above the rooftops, an animal growl, like that of a rabid dog, pierced the silence, and Adrian turned his head in that direction. Silhouetted against the bright and shining moon, several shapes, emaciated yet determined, crawled across the houses.

He had to get inside, but none of the houses seemed safe enough. Taking his chances, Adrian ran to the nearest door and threw it open as quietly as he could, jumping inside and closing it behind him, leaning up against, and waited. He could hear them move along the street, their growls even came within several feet of his door, and Adrian leaned up against it with all of his weight, clutching the wrench in a death grip.

But as the creatures passed, he breathed a sigh of relief, and slowly let his body slide to the floor in near euphoria. Pulling the flashlight from his body, he clicked it on and took stock of his surroundings. The house was sparse, as per post-invasion home decoration must have been, he mused. Only a small table and several mismatched chairs could be seen in the quaint kitchen through the anteroom he currently found himself in. To his left he found a flight of stairs, which seemed mostly intact, save several steps that had broken right down the middle.

Carefully, the wrench in one hand and the heavy flashlight in the other, Adrian made his way up the flight of stairs, careful not to step on any that looked suspiciously weak. At the top, he found a short hallway with two doors, presumably leading to bedrooms. Taking the door on his left revealed a study with several wooden boxes piled around the desk, and a small map tacked to a corkboard hanging limply by a single nail in the corner.

Shephard's pulse quickened and he threw open the wooden boxes, sure he had found a weapon cache. But to his dismay, it only yielded packaging popcorn, the weapons were gone. Cursing, Adrian chided himself for getting his hopes up.

Grabbing the map from the wall, he found all wasn't totally for naught. The outlines of streets and names scribbled along them proved that this was a complete, albeit rather shoddy, map of the surrounding area. For convenience of reference, his position was even marked with a circle. Along the street which this townhouse occupied were also several other marks, mainly x's. Under each was scribbled the contents of the location.

Adrian read several of them, but the only words that really mattered were "weapon cache", until one more caught his eye.

_Radio._

Adrian grabbed for the one on his chest, clicking it several times, while grinding his teeth in frustration at why he would have forgotten such a valuable and essential piece of equipment.

The clicking proceeded, but nothing, not even static, rattled from the mouth of the radio. Perhaps it had shorted out during his brief battle in the sewer. Sighing, he took the map back in his hands and tried to pinpoint just where the area with the radio was compared to his current position.

Tracing his finger along the street, he found it was only several houses up. Along the way was an x marking another weapon cache, but after seeing the state of the current cache he found himself in, he doubted anything would be left in the next one.

Funny enough, on closer inspection, the line upon which several of the x's fell upon wasn't the same line as the street. The line seemed to be traced through the block of houses, literally through. Pocketing the map and shrugging off the abnormality, he crossed the hallway and into the other room.

It had to be a joke. Or a trick of the mind, Adrian thought, as he stared at the gaping hole in the wall. It looked too fine to have been the cause of an explosion; besides, the several boards creating a walkway across the short space in between houses ruled that out anyway. This had been deliberate.

Placing one foot out on the dark wooden boards, he checked their integrity. He looked down, half expecting to see a mass of dead bodies, victims of a untimely battle with gravity, but he was mistaken, finding only the empty alleyway.

Creaking along the floorboards in the house across the way drew his attention, and Shephard slid back into the shadows of his room, thinking it could be the sound of a hungry predator. Peering out from behind the wall, he waited as the creaking increased in volume, until Adrian could make out footsteps. They were deliberate and straightforward, not the lumbering, hap-hazard type that the undead seemed to make.

A figure, his body draped in a crisp business suit and a fine military crew cut, passed the threshold of the door across the way. Adrian had to blink several times before he realized the figure had stopped. _He was looking right at him_. Adrian froze, afraid to break the stare, for fear the man who seemed so wholly out of place might turn into one of the raging monsters Adrian was used to evading by now.

But the figure, who as time droned on almost became translucent, simply brushed the lapel of his suit with a lazy hand, and gave Adrian one last soul searching stare, then continued on his way down the hall, leaving Shephard frozen to his spot.

Adrian had no clue how long he stood there, it could have been minutes, it could have been hours, but he finally shook himself free of the paralyzing grip that ghastly figure had on him. It had been the same man who had been standing in the reflection of the infirmary door, when Adrian had first woken up in this strange world. Like a hostile welcoming party he had regarded the memory-deprived man with a cool stare and an uncaring demeanor.

But this time, it seemed as though he were leading him. Adrian felt drawn to follow the man, who by now seemed more like a guide. Finally Adrian stepped out of his hiding place and carefully, and silently crossed the bridge spanning both houses.

The next house was the same format as the last, with two rooms across from each other in the upstairs hallway. The room straight across had another gaping hole, with yet another wooden bridge. But that was where he was going just yet. Looking down the hallway in the direction the strange man had walked, he found nothing more than a haggard looking bookcase. The bindings of the books that had been crammed into it spoke volumes in and off themselves.

Books on military history, atlases of Eastern Europe, weapon biographies, medical books; all volumes more or less critical to sustaining a prolonged guerilla campaign against the current rulers of his planet. But as he scanned the bindings, one caught his eye, a blank, nondescript yellow binding stood conspicuously between books about the use of local herbs in medicine. His curiosity suspending all his haste, he awkwardly tried to pry it from its mornings. Though it resisted, Adrian was able to pull it free, which a notable _snap._ That snap was accompanied but a thick clicking sound, which ended almost as soon as it had begun. Puzzled, Adrian tapped the sides of bookcase, and heard a distinctive hollow knock.

Book in hand, he experimented by leaning the fullness of his weight against the bookcase. It slid slowly, its hidden hinges creaking dangerously loud against the threat of force, and finally gave way, sending Shephard into a darkened room.

Nearly falling over, Adrian immediately pulled the flashlight from his belt and brought light to a room that hadn't seen it in years. The room wasn't what Adrian had figured a secret room would look like; it more resembled what any typical room plan any other house might have followed. An old dusty bed, a sparse desk, a closet, and small chair in the corner opposite him were what occupied most of the space.

But as his light came across the chair, the silhouette of a form nearly made him stumble back. But as his jittering grip over the flashlight finally became stable, he drew the light back on it, finding only a small, poorly-made doll. Its red hair cascaded over its face, which was decorated with two mismatched buttons for the eyes, and a crazy, almost sadistic grin woven in zigzags with the same color crimson red thread. The silence and atmosphere of the room conspired to drive him out, but he stood firm, yet still.

Adrian wondered what could possibly warrant hiding a room as average as this. There wasn't any weapons, nor was there anything, really, of any military value. His light falling again on the creepy looking doll, half hoping it hadn't moved from its spot, and began to wonder if this room wasn't built to hide something, but _someone_.

The image of a child, a girl, hugging the hastily made doll caused Adrian to shudder. The thought that a child should have to endure something as horrific as he had seen chilled Adrian more than the cries of the alien creatures outside. An inspection of the closet further proved his theory. Several pairs of clothing too small to fit even a small woman, hung from hangers. They swayed back and forth as Adrian opened the door, the rustling echoing a peace from days gone by.

About to shut the door, and give up any hope of finding anything useful, Adrian's light fell upon a small green vial. It glowed as the light touched it, several pieces of brown solids had collected at the top of the gelatin mass. Reaching down, he pulled the container, too large for his fingers to close around it, yet small enough to fit comfortably in his pocket. One side of it had a plastic white protrusion that ran along the length of the vial, and sported a pole with two snakes coiled around it, the base of which also sported a red cross, the international sign of medicine.

Adrian rolled it around in his hand and found a plastic tip-covered needle, barely a quarter of an inch long, protruding from the bottom. Was this some sort of medication? An all purpose serum? Pocketing the vial, he turned to leave.

The hallway was as quiet as he had left it, and Adrian couldn't be sure whether that was a good thing, or not. Taking the map out of his front pocket, he scanned it once more. If the houses really were spanned by bridges, they should lead right up past the end of the road, and on up to the church.

Filled with a renewed sense of purpose, and Katya's safety close to his heart, he made his way through the maze of houses.

X X X

As he made his way up the street via the bridges connecting each house together, Adrian tried to grasp the necessity of having all the row houses connected like they were. And as he crossed each bridge, it became more and more clear. With the hordes of deadly creatures roaming the streets, it was best to stay off the ground, and having each house in turn connect to the next seemed more than a good idea, it seemed like the only one.

But that meant someone had survived the holocaust that had been the infection. Many of the signs he had seen already pointed strongly to that conclusion. But as he had thought when he rolled through the decimated streets not so long ago, anyone who survived this had to be mad, or worse, psychotic.

Thoughts of a defenseless Katya crawled into his mind, and Adrian nearly missed a step, which would have sent him plummeting to his doom. He tapped his useless radio, and hoped beyond hope that it could come to life once more, if only for a moment, the creepy silence had begun to eat at him.

But he found he must be at the end of the street, since the room, which should have had another hole in it, sported none. Adrian checked the room, and found a small ladder in the closet, which lead into the attic of the house he currently occupied.

Another hole, not in the original plans of the house, Shephard surmised, was cut out of the roof, a dingy rope ladder hanging from it. By now the unknown of this crazy town scared him no longer, and he grabbed the rope without hesitation.

"_You wanna come up here and knock me off?"_ A familiar voice screamed in his head. Adrian nearly let go of the rope, and had to steady his grip once more. Where had that come from, he wondered. The voice had sounded in his head as clearly as if the speaker had been right beside him. The voice was authoritative, and belligerent, coaxing Adrian to climb higher. His memories, Shephard told himself, were anything but normal. He couldn't even be sure they were his own.

As he came out of the small hole cut in the roof, he found himself looking out over most of the town. Here and there were several areas lit by street lights, and had Adrian had the vision to see so far, he might have seen the undead stumbling around each point of light, like moths to a flame. Turning his sight from the decaying city to the hill behind him, he saw that he was right next to the church, its bright bell tower still shining, brighter now than before.

The music he had thought he might have heard before was quite apparent now. Like an old organ, blaring tunes Shephard didn't recognize. The sign of life drove him closer, across the rooftops, though he was ever weary of the emaciated creatures that patrolled the skyline. Jumping from house to house. He finally found the cobblestone street that meandered up the hill towards the church.

His excitement was tempered only by the ghastly and gruesome corpses that littered the road to his destination. Several bodies, lumbering like they did, of the undead casually wandered the street, their purpose in life as of yet unfulfilled. As the rooftops finally gave way, Adrian had no choice but to crawl down the side of one to make it to the street, but before he would do that, he needed a plan.

Making a run for it wouldn't work, it would be like a lamb trying to evade a pack of hungry wolves, in their own cave, no less. As Shephard sat cross-legged near the edge of the last rooftop, he tried to carve out a plan. Watching the zombies move, he wondered if their actions would yield any kind of discernable pattern. Some gathered around the corpse of a freshly killed bird, a couple were slumped against the hulk of an old bus, half a dozen wandered the cobblestone street back and forth, and a lone large black zombie, its back a mess of overgrown tissue and leaching black headcrabs, sat awkwardly next to a telephone pole, its clawed hand absently grinding on the worn wood.

And as Adrian's eyes traveled up of the pole, his plan finally fell into place. The lines running from the pole connected right into the house he currently found himself on. Grabbing a loose roof shingle, Adrian tested it by throwing the object against the line. When there wasn't a flash of sparks, Adrian felt certain his idea would do. The cable stretched all the way from the roof of the house, down to nearly a block away from the gates of the church. If he could slide down the telephone line, he would only have to run a short distance.

The shingle he had used to test the rubber line tumbled down the side of the building, coming to a smashing rest upon the street below. Shattering into a hundred different pieces, the crash echoed like a gunshot. Adrian winced as the walking corpses below turned their attention to the rooftops, and spotted their prey.

Almost immediately they dropped anything they were doing and moaned in excitement. Shephard knew the moaning would only get louder, and attract more attention. So ripping off a piece of his sweater, he draped it over the line and held it firmly with both hands. Pushing off the roof of the house, Adrian sailed overhead, the hungry masses below following his movement with their outstretched limbs.

Towards the end of his brief flight, Adrian realized the drop down wasn't going to be smooth, or fun. Grasping his arms around the pole, he half slide, half fell the distance to the ground, landing with a thud, but quickly regaining his footing. The creatures were mere yards away now, but their slow speed gave Shephard an advantage.

Rocketing off toward the gate, Shephard slammed into it with all the energy he could muster, only to come back cursing, his body simply bouncing right off. Slamming his fists against the metal rods he screamed for anyone to let him in. He screamed that he was alive, and that he wasn't infected, but he knew that any moment now the hordes of creatures behind would change all that.

Turning to meet his fate, he saw the crowd advancing, the smaller, normal zombies leading, and the hunchback types following close behind. It gave him a small sense of relief knowing the fast ones hadn't yet made an appearance, but their shrieks in the far off background told him they would do so soon.

The wrench held out in front of him in a less than menacing manner, Adrian prepared to go down fighting, then a voice behind him, a distance off, stopped him.

"Let loose my traps, brother! Loose them upon mine enemies! Look to heaven above for thy salvation!" Adrian turned to see a man running down the small trail leading from the church, but much too far away to help him in time. "Above you, brother! There lies your salvation!" What, Adrian thought, above me? Taking precious moments away from preparing for the fight ahead, Shephard looked above the gate. Two gargoyles, mythogical demons made real in stone, stood above the gate, as if guarding it. Sitting several, maybe a good twelve feet apart, each had grasped in its mouth a chain, which was attached to a metal sheet spanning the length between them. The think metal sheet, Adrian realized was keeping a score of metal bars from rolling down the street. "Let loose mine traps! Show them the true path to salvation!" The man was calling frantically.

Shephard understood and climbed the metal gate until he was next to one of the gargoyles. The undead horde only several feet away now, Adrian took the wrench and, steadying himself with one hand, slammed the tool against the chain jammed into the mouth of the demon. After several hand numbing swings, the chain fell away, loosing the heavy metal bars, which fell to the street below, and cascaded like a waterfall of metal onto the seething crowd below.

The ones that were instantly killed by the impact were drug with many of the others down the street, their balance lost. Adrian dropped from the gargoyle up above and back onto the street just in time to come face to face with one of the hunchback zombies, its claws brought back in preparation.

But Shephard was quicker, and brought the wrench down on the headcrab, smashing more alien blood across the street. The monster moaned pitifully, then slumped to the ground. Turning to the gate, Shephard rattled against it, nearly paralyzed by the fear that the man might turn and leave.

A sharp pain in his left leg nearly brought Adrian to his knees, though, as he turned to find the black mottled form of a headcrab leaning back for one more strike. The feeling from his legs up began to fail, and Shephard dropped to one knee. With strength enough left for one more blow, he brought his wrench down, crashing through the body of the headcrab.

And as the numbness cascaded over his whole body, Adrian's last vision was that of the hungry hordes once more making their way up the street, yet this time he wasn't going anywhere.

X X X

The blackness became white, white hot, and Adrian was pretty sure he knew where he was this time. Lying prone on the sand dune overlooking the little village, he could see several people milling about in their day to day activities.

"Sergeant Shephard?" The voice came from his right. And Adrian turned to face the speaker.

It was that sick man with the scars crisscrossing his face. His brown binoculars laying in the sand next to his, alongside his rifle, he peered at Adrian oddly.

"You okay?" He asked. Adrian felt himself nod.

"Fine sir. Just the heat." The man smiled, that sick smile again.

"Well, then, lets get what we came for, then I'll buy everyone a frosty round. Oorah?" The rest of the platoon whispered in reply. And Adrian felt himself rise up and jog down the hill.

_Stop._ He willed himself, but no use, he was a passive observer to this little theatrical event. Or was it all real, and not a trick of the sleep depraved, terrified mind of a man seemingly without a past? Though he could not control his body, he felt the weight of the rifle, the heat on his brow.

Suddenly a crack, a gunshot rang out, and a woman carrying a vase of water dropped to the ground, the water pooling with the blood from her wound. Her eyes opened wide with disbelief, and it seemed for a moment that she might stand up and shrug off the wound. But slowly, the light in the eyes dimmed, and then finally receded. Adrian felt his body stop jogging, and his mouth fell wide open.

"Come on! Come on, Shephard!" One of his teammates screamed, and several ran by him, more gunshots destroying the dull normality of the hot summer day. Several more people fell to the ground, their garments awash with their own blood.

Shephard stood in numb disbelief, and would have thought he had control over his body, until he felt it stumble backwards several feet, until a reassuring hand pushed him forward.

Once more the sadistic grin of a man enjoying the carnage filled the eyeholes of his gasmask. "Come on, you ain't chickening out on me, are you?" Behind the face, two soldiers entered a mud hut and almost immediately gunfire broke out.

"N…n…" Adrian tried to speak, but his commanding officer cut him off.

"Good!" He grabbed the tip of Adrian's rifle and pointed it at another one of the huts. "Now do your _goddamn_ job, marine!"

The scream was so loud inside his head, that the passive observer Shephard had become could hardly hear the crack of his m4.

X X X

Adrian awoke with a start, his whole body aching. He found himself laying on what seemed to be a church pew. Feeling his leg, he found several small bite marks, but nothing that seemed of any present threat. Feeling the back of his head, he wondered if it had all been a dream, the nightmarish town he had found himself in. Sitting up, he rubbed his eyes, the vision of the zombies crawling closer to his inert body still fresh in mind. Nor could he shake the image of innocent civilian blood spattering his clothes.

What was wrong with him? Adrian held his head in his hands, cradling what he thought must be a broken and distorted mess of a brain.

Then, suddenly, his unknown surroundings caught his attention, and his head whipped up. The room wasn't large by church standards, but it was big enough to house probably several dozen people. Several pews were missing, and many were out of alignment, but Adrian found most of them facing forward, towards the alter.

In fine Greek orthodox style, he saw the alter ahead adorned with the finest gold, or what must have been the finest years ago. Candelabras and chalices, dusty and toppled on their sides, stood as testaments to a religion that for all intents and purposes did not exist anymore.

Behind him a wooden door opened, and footsteps made their way up the center lane. Adrian turned to find a man, his face bristly and fraught with wrinkles, dressed in a pastors vestments with a golden cross hanging from his neck, carrying a platter with moist wraps up the aisle.

Seeing that his guest was awake, the man stopped, still a couple of pews away. It was several seconds before he spoke.

"Well, it looks as though, you've woken up. You seem no worse for the ware. But," He said nodding to the platter and chuckling softly. "…one can never be took careful." He set the platter down next to Shephard and gestured to his leg. "Do you mind, brother?"

Adrian broke his trance like stare and rolled up his pant leg. "I'm sorry." He began. "It's just seems like so long since I've…" He searched for the word.

"Been among the living?" The old man finished for him. "You are quite the tamer of the undead, I heard your pursuit a mile away!" He placed the wrap over the wound, and instead of feeling coolness; Adrian instead felt a hot, stinging sensation, his leg jerking in response. "Do not fret, it will help bleed out the rest of the poison. Had I not pulled you into the safety of the gates you would have surely made one of the demons a fine meal!" He joked, but seeing that Adrian didn't laugh, his tone grew quieter. "What business do you have in Ravenholm? Where only the dead walk?"

"I came looking for my friend… she disappeared when we were searching the town for supplies." Adrian felt as though now that they had been stealing from this man's home, and was ashamed to admit it. The man's eyes grew and he stood up from his seat.

"You must mean the young girl I saved from the demons." He nearly cried. "She's here, safe. But I'm afraid the damage may already be done." Adrian's heart sank.

"What's wrong?" He asked frantically. The man jogged down the center aisle, towards the door that he had entered, beckoning Shephard to follow him. Down the hallway and into a small room, Adrian finally came face to face with the woman he had been searching for.

Though she looked as though she had seen hell. Her complexion was white as a ghost, and her form was scrunched into a tight ball as she lay on the cot, next to the wall of the small room, adorned only by a small cross above her head. Adrian knelt down beside her, taking her pained face into his hands, her skin almost burned to the touch.

"Katya, Katya please, it's me, Adrian!" He called out, but she only moaned in reply. He turned to the pastor, standing in the threshold. "What's happened to her?" The man gently felt along her back and pointed a gaping, yet recently treated wound along her back.

"One of the demons, they must have attacked her. I did the best I could to treat the infection, but it's rooted itself deep within her, and I do not have the necessary medicine to combat the virus inside her now." He said, frowning. Katya shivered and curled even tighter.

"There's nothing we can do?" He pleaded. But the pastor simply shook his head.

"Nothing, save pray."

X X X

By the light of a small kerosene lamp, Adrian stood a silent watch over Katya's sleeping, fitful form. He had done so for what must have been an hour, daylight had finally broken, albeit barely. He heard the footsteps before he saw the form of the pastor in the doorway, his form obscured by the brighter light of the hallway.

"She hasn't changed much, I gather." He said casually, in his thick accent. Shephard simply shook his head. Sitting against the opposite wall from the cot, Adrian sighed. The pastor, who had introduced himself earlier as Father Grigori, took a seat next to him and thumbed the gold cross.

"You've known her long, no? She seems rather important to you." Shephard absentmindedly scratched the old wound on the back of his leg and pondered the question. He had known her as far back as he could remember, which in his situation was only a couple of days. But how important was she to him? A whole city of the undead hadn't stopped him from finding her, if that meant anything at all. That thought made Adrian chuckle.

"I can't remember anything more than several days ago, father." He felt as though he were in confession. "Her friends found me and took me in. Anything before that is a blur." Father sat silently for a moment, before breathing in deeply.

"A man without a past, that would an unsettling thing for anyone." Again more silence. Adrian thought of the dreams he had been having, of the massacre, and the blood on his hands.

"Father?" The old man crocked his head in acknowledgment. "Can someone… confess for sins they aren't sure they've committed?" His heart in his throat, he waited for the old man's reply.

"You've been given what you believed was a curse, a blank memory. But perhaps by the will of the Holy Spirit, you've been given a clean slate. Your past is just that, your past." Shepard sat still, trying to grapple with the meaning of the cryptic message. "A wise man once told me, brother, that it is not _who_ we are, but _what_ we do, that will be the image presented to our almighty lord on the Day of Judgment."

"Who was that?" Shephard asked.

Father Grigori chuckled. "Why, brother, it was the Father of this very church."

X X X

"Before Satan and his minions poured through their gateway from hell and unleashed their fury upon our world, I had little to do with this church." Father Grigori said, sliding the glass of less than clear water across the table to Shephard who drank it greedily. "My father was one of the miners here in town, and I worked the store room of one of the general stores." He said in a wispy voice full of memories.

"But as soon as our world was taken from us, it became very different. People from all over the world fled to our small mountain town to avoid the grip of our oppressors. Church attendance quickly became mandatory, for it was where general announcements, new additions to the populace were introduced, and other gatherings took place. With more than ample time on my hands, I took to boarding up windows, creating short cuts, and rigging booby traps. I was chided by the townspeople as being crazy," he said indignantly, but then his tone quickly changed to a darker one. "…until the night of great sadness came."

Grigori recounted the horrors that took place, the utter chaos in the streets, and the subsequent silence. Silence, as the headcrabs did their job, infecting the populace.

"Soon after that, I was left all alone. I had hid in the one place I had ignored so regularly." He tapped the bible on the table next to him. "Alone and scared, I did anything to take my mind off the writhing masses in the street. One day I finally picked up the Word and began reading. As I did…" his voice became strained, recounting his strongest memory. "A change came over me, I lost my fear. I saw those outside for who they really were. So I took up the old leaders garments, as well as his quest to bring salvation to the masses. The traps I had set have helped me to bring piece to the demons my friends have become, but as a religious leader…" He said cracking a wry smile. "I'm still a little green."

_Green_

Shephard ignored the rest of what Father Grigori said and stuffed his hand into the front pocket of his vest. The awkward form of the plastic vial was still there, and Adrian let out a sigh of relief. He jumped from his seat, the green liquid in his hand, and ran down the hall, leaving the old man in stunned silence.

X X X

Katya was still delirious with fever, laying in the fetal position with her back to the wall. Shephard knelt down beside her and took the vial in his right hand, the other gently brushing away a few of her brown locks.

"Hey, hey you… it's me." He said gently. Katya only moaned and turned away from his touch. "I'm going to give you something to make the pain go away ok?" He said, as if he were talking to a child. "You'll feel better… I promise…" But he knew he couldn't keep the promise, he had no idea what the liquid gel would do, but, he surmised, it was better than watching her twist and turn in pain.

"Here, my son." The hands of the old man materialized next to him, and he helped Adrian turn Katya over, exposing her gauss covered wound. She resisted in her delirium, fighting to push herself back against the wall, but with steady and determined hands, the two men turned her on her stomach. Popping the plastic tip off the small needle, Shephard stood still for a moment, scrutinizing the wound, pondering the best place to insert it. If he didn't inject her in the correct place, it might not work. The wrinkled hands of Father Grigori slipped over his, adding his resolve to Adrian's. "Let the spirit be your guide, brother."

Shephard closed his eyes and felt himself bring the needle down into the side of her neck. Without the use of a button or trigger the green liquid was pushed out of the vial and into Katya's struggling form. She sucked in a breath and wriggled one last time, before finally becoming still. Opening his eyes, Adrian saw the twisted look of pain gradually leave her face, replaced by a look of exhaustion, accompanied by a regular breathing pattern.

"Is she…?" Father Grigori placed a hand on Shephard's shoulder.

"She will be fine, but for now we must let her regain her strength, if the both of you are to leave here." His ears perked up at the thought of leaving. With all the hiding, fighting and running, the nightmarish town of Ravenholm seemed like the only world he had known.

"I won't be calling my group for help anytime soon, my radio is useless." He grimaced.

Grigori stood up and brushed himself off, "I think I might have some friends who could help you…"

X X X

The old man stepped out of the small study, a walkie-talkie in his right hand.

"I've spoken to some friends of mine, they are more than willing to give you passage." A smile crossed Adrian's lips, they just might survive this.

"Who are they?"

"They form part of the resistance, they are the remnant that escaped from here before the town became what you see today. Their base is not too far off, as soon as your friend is rested, I will show you the way. They have more than adequate equipment to help you make contact with your friends."

Running a hand through his dark brown hair, Shephard let out a sigh of relief, grateful that almost everything was falling into place.

"Adrian?" It was almost a whisper, but Adrian heard it clear as day. Turning, he saw Katya's disheveled form standing in the doorway.

Shephard smiled, knowing now that _everything_ was falling into place.


	17. Escape from Hell

_So familiar and overwhelmingly warm  
This one, this form I hold now.  
Embracing you, this reality here,  
This one, this form I hold now, so  
Wide eyed and hopeful.  
Wide eyed and hopefully wild._

_We barely remember what came before this precious moment,  
Choosing to be here right now. Hold on, stay inside...  
This body holding me, reminding me that I am not alone in  
This body makes me feel eternal. All this pain is an illusion._

Parabol – Tool

Shephard's Story

-Escape from Hell-

"So, you… came all this way, for me?" Adrian was surprised at Katya's question, and he pointed his eyes to the ground. Sitting in the room she had been convalescing in, the pair had recounted both their experiences, ending with the green serum that had saved Katya's life. Rubbing the back of his head, Adrian searched for some kind of answer, besides the one he felt in his heart.

"Well, without you, I don't know how well I'd survive back home, ya know, with Aaron breathing down my neck." Plastering a weak smile on his face, Adrian felt he had avoided any awkwardness. Katya simply smiled in return and leaned across the bed and hugged him tight. Her old black jumpsuit replaced by a more comfortable set of jeans and a sweater.

"Well, thanks just the same." God she felt good in his arms, and it seemed as though the hug lasted several seconds longer than it should have. Adrian was almost angry when the timid voice of Father Grigori broke the silence. Standing at the doorway, the old man ushered them into the hallway, saying nothing more than "Our time is short".

Standing near one of the rear doors of the church, the old man, who had been more of a savior to the pair than anything else, held out a rifle, several clips in his other hand. "This… was my father's." He began by taking a sigh. "He used it in the Great Patriotic War. It is semi-automatic, but is deadly in the hands of an expert marksman. Which of you is to wield it?" Adrian looked to Katya, who raised an eyebrow in his direction. The topic of his shooting in the warehouse had yet to be addressed, and Adrian's sheepish grin prompted her to take the SVT-40 off of father's hands. "Now, the haven you two will seek is on the other side of this neighborhood." Adrian grimaced and Grigori caught the look of disdain. "But I've a short cut which you two may use, I'll accompany you till I no longer can."

Reaching into his short coat, the old man took out an old .45 semi-automatic pistol and handed it to Adrian. "I am truly sorry that I haven't more to offer you in terms of defense…" Adrian thumbed the powerful pistol, a grin forming on his face. This would sure put a wide hole in anything close enough to take a swipe at him. Seeing the young man's approval, Father Grigori handed him several more clips, a total of twenty one bullets. Adrian handled them with care, and Father turned to the door. "I guess it is for the best that we make haste."

X X X

The door creaked open louder than Adrian would have liked, the but the old man's placid demeanor signaled that they had nothing to fear within the confines of the church ground. High above the rest of the city, the church stood as a beacon, and a fortress, of light. Looking out over the city, Katya pondered the fate of her father, and their friends, while Adrian kept his eyes on Father Grigori's back, his ears sensitive to any sound other than the rustling of the wind, and the crunching of old, desiccated leaves under their boots.

Out in the distance, a loud cry pierced the silence and made each hair on the back of Adrian's neck stand up. Slowing, but not stopping, the old priest looked out beyond the chain link fence. "You've nothing to fear, they are only the lowly moans of those yet to be saved." This did almost nothing to avail either Adrian of Katya's fears, but they kept up their trek along the church grounds, finally coming to stop near an old rusted aluminum shed.

Wordlessly, Father Grigori propped open the makeshift wooden door and shone a flashlight into a room that was barely big enough to fit all three of them. The only thing that occupied it, though, was a manhole cover, set in cement, a skull and cross bones spray painted over the old iron gateway.

"We're going," Adrian gulped down the last of his pride. "Down there?" Hefting the cover from its moorings, the old man shone the light down into the darkness, illuminating the muddy debris below.

"The road to salvation must sometimes take a detour through purgatory." Was all that father said as he handed Adrian his rifle, Annabelle, and swung himself over the edge and down into the pit below. Adrian looked to Katya, her eyes focused on the way they came, and sighed, he was sick of sewers. His eyes turned to the flickering light below, and handing the rifle down, he himself took the plunge.

X X X

His boots sank several inches into the mud, and when he pulled them out to take a step forward, he was greeted with a sickeningly wet suction sound. Father stood in front of him, his rifle at the ready, flashlight pointed down the long, cavern-like tunnel through which they would make their trek.

Katya jumped down and landed several inches behind Adrian, grabbing onto his shoulders for balance. With the entire party now in tow, they continued forward, their weapons at the ready, and the wet sucking sound following them like a bad smell.

Several bends down the sewer system and it was all starting to look the same. The old man seemed to take rights and lefts as he pleased, disregarding – and sometimes contemplating – other routes. Adrian was beginning to become worried that they were much more lost than they were before. Turning back to Katya, he raised an eyebrow as they rounded another corner. She caught the glance in the dim light and returned it. She must have been thinking the same thing.

The tranquility of their march through the sewers was broken several times by the thumping of steps above them, or the telltale sounds of the runners, their shrieks heard above all else. Adrian almost jumped though when Katya tapped him on the shoulder. "What do you think the others are doing? Do you think they got out okay?"

Adrian shook his head, wishing he knew the answer. "They wouldn't have left without us, they must still be here, maybe hiding out until we can get in touch with them."

"Where you're going, they will have radios that you can contact your friends with. I assure you, everything will be alright, we're nearing the end of this leg of the journey, you'll soon be out of harms way." Grigori interjected. Adrian could almost feel Katya ease up, and a small weight from his own shoulders seemed to evaporate.

What could have once been called an uneventful march, though, was quickly shattered at the streets above exploded in noise. An explosion, off in the distance, shattered the piece that had engulfed the sewer. The muddy water rippled with the shockwave, and each of the three craned their necks to the surface, wondering what could have caused the ruckus. Overheard, where the grates would allow, animal shrieks and moans of unimaginable horror filled the air, and were all directed in one direction, the direction they were headed. Katya brought her head to her chin, a small smile creasing her lips.

"I'd bet my last bullet that one was Aaron."

X X X

"Wow, and things were going so smoothly!" Stanley screamed, his pistol roaring against the moans of the monsters that followed their van down the battered streets.

"Smoothly! I'd like to see your example of rough!" Yuri called back, his hands twisting the wheel this way and that, desperately trying to avoid the debris.

"Well maybe if that twit hadn't used yet _another_ rocket, we could have kept a moderate amount of subterfuge!" Reloading his 9mm, Stanley cursed and brought the radio to his lips. "General, you found a way out yet?"

Several streets up the General and Slick were having a decidedly easier time maneuvering around the wreckage and were scouting out their surroundings to get a bearing on their location. Contrary to what the others thought, though, they weren't looking for an exit, but for Katya and Adrian, but they were running out of time.

Aaron's rocket from the back of the open van hadn't helped things either; soon every freak in town would be on their trail. They'd soon be a buffet if they didn't find a way out. But he couldn't leave his daughter behind, and the mystery that was Adrian had still yet to be solved.

Slick took a pot shot at a passing zombie, the scattered pellets of her shotgun doing more to anger it than to actually do any damage. "Sir, we're running out of options, we need to get to safety, then we can look for Katya." Sasha didn't answer, and took a hard right. He knew that if they kept on this road, it would lead them to the end of town near the mountain pass, and the old hydro power plant was just down the bend from their. They could set up there and try to find a way back in to find the others.

He screamed this idea to Slick over the roar of the scout car's engine. Slick radioed back to Stanley about their plans, who whole-heartedly agreed. Yuri wasn't so agreeable, though. Grabbing the radio from Stanley and holding onto the wheel with the other hand, he yelled his disapproval.

"Katya is your _daughter_, how can you abandon her?" But before the general could retort, Aaron did the job for him. From his position in the back of van, he could see the mob of creatures following them. Though not very fast, they by far outnumbered them. Cursing and shoving another rocket into the launcher, he grabbed for the radio attached to his vest and gave them a grim sit rep.

"We stay here any longer and _no one_ is making it out of here. If we don't leave now, there'll be nobody to come back and look for those two, _period._"

For once, Sasha agreed with him, though he did so grudgingly, and with little more than a grunt. The general's lack of opposition to the comment left Yuri feeling helpless, and he threw the radio back to Stanley, and kept up his route through the forsaken city, feeling as though they were abandoning their comrades.

X X X

"That gate is gonna be made of some heavy Combine shit, sir." Slick said, eyeing the map that bounced up and down on her lap as they traversed the streets, their exit almost in sight.

"Well then Stanley will just have to get out and open it for us, wont he?" Sasha sarcastically replied, things other than Combine technology on his mind. Slick shrunk back from the harsh comment and grabbed for the radio.

"Stan, we're gonna need you to get out and work your magic on the gate." There were several uncomfortably long moment of silence, finally followed by a burst of static and several gunshots. "

_Oh bullshit! I'm not taking one unprotected step out of this van!"_ Another set of bullets ripped through the air on the other side of the radio.

"_You'll do exactly that, you four-eyed freak! Or so help me I'll come back and shove this rocket where the sun don't shine!" _Aaron screamed over his own hail of bullets.

Several more seconds of silence and finally Stanley replied, decidedly less enthusiastically. "_Alright, but I'm going to need a couple of minutes of cover."_

The general and Slick maneuvered around an overturned bus and nearly crashed into the towering blue Combine gate. Slick was about to tell Stan he wouldn't have much time, but Aaron interrupted her. "_You'll get your time, just get us the fuck out of here."_ Slick hoped he wasn't going to do what she _knew_ he was going to do.

"Okay baby, you got one last kick left in you?" Aaron said kissing the side of his new toy he affectionately called 'Susie'. Bumping around in the back of the open van, he had a better vantage point of the threat than anyone else. The runners, the stumbling ones, and the lumbering zombies all kept up a nauseatingly persistent pursuit, and he only had one chance to slow them down.

He had to make this one count.

Kneeling in the back of the van, he shouldered the launcher and looked through the crude sight. His fingers felt around the barrel and flicked a small gray switch, and the closest zombie sprouted a red dot of death from atop his forehead.

"Open wide, uglies!" He screamed over the whoosh of air as the launcher expelled its deadly offspring. The explosive zoomed through the night air and smacked into the middle of the group. It vaporized the closest, blew apart those nearby, and launched the rest several feet into the air. The van rocked back and forth, threatening to tip. Dropping the smoking launcher, he breathed a sigh of relief. It would them enough time, at least he hoped.

X X X

Yuri wasn't even bothering to avoid the wreckage now, and smacked into the side of an overturned bus, the recent explosion buying them several precious minutes he had no right wasting.

Screeching to a halt, and nearly rolling the van in front of the gate, Stanley jumped from his open door, his hacking equipment out and in hand. He threw open the lighted panel to the side and poked several instruments inside, his utter terror causing his hands to shake violently.  
Slick jumped from the scout car and covered his rear. Stanley tapped several circuits, hoping for a green light and a woosh of hydraulics, but fate wasn't so kind.

Several failed attempts and terrifyingly angry buzzes later, and Stanley could hear the hungry masses forming again down the road. "Fuck, fuck!" He screamed. In angry and utter fanatic terror he turned to Slick. "Gimme your gun!"

"What?" She turned to him, puzzled. Stanley tugged the shotgun out of her hands and pointed it at the lock. Pulling the trigger back far enough to unload two shells at the same time, the lock was vaporized, several wayward circuits floating in the wind. For a moment nothing happened, and Stanley was certain his momentary psychotic break had doomed them all, but when the whine of hydraulics overpowered the sounds of moans, his heart leapt.

Leave it to violence to solve all problems, he sarcastically observed.

Slick tugged him from his reverie and pulled him back to the scout car, which was already moving when they piled inside. Followed by the van, they burst out of the gate and down the short tunnel and into some of the sweetest smelling air they had yet to smell. But then Stanley had a thought. He clawed at Sasha, pleading with him to stop. With both vehicles out of harms way, he hopped out of the scout car and ran towards the one place he had been so desperate to leave.

His hands fumbling for his equipment again, he threw open the locking mechanism, and with a renewed confidence, he set to shutting the door behind him. Logically, he tried to reason away the fright, it would be easier to open and shut it from the outside, since the Combine certainly didn't want anyone getting out. The light buzzed an almost euphoric green and the gate began shutting itself.

Automatic rifle fire, three quick, successive shots, nearly blew his eardrums out and Stanley covered them in fear. Opening his eyes, he saw the corpse of a lone zombie, its head blown apart by high velocity rounds. A rough hand pulled him towards the van, and a rather disdainful voice accompanied it.

"I guess you're good for somethin'."


	18. Knee Deep in the Dead

_Throw away the radio  
Suitcase...Keeps you awake  
Hide the telephone, the telephone  
Telephone in case...You realize that  
Sometimes your just not OK  
You level out, level out, level out  
It's not alright now...You need to understand  
There's nothing strange out this  
You need to know your friends...You need to know that_

_I'll be waving my hand   
Watching you drown, watching you scream, quiet or loud  
And maybe you should sleep  
And maybe you just need...A friend  
As clumsy as you've been there's no one laughing  
You will be safe in here, you will be safe in here_

Clumsy – Our Lady Peace

Shephard's Story

-Knee Deep in the Dead-

A second explosion, and then nothing, save the moans of the dead, and the thumping steps of those following the ruckus above. Below the streets crawling with the walking corpses of men and women, three individuals stood silent in the darkness, contemplating what could have happened.

"I guess this means they're still alive." Adrian whispered. Katya only shrugged in reply, the explosions could have meant a million things, optimism wasn't to be had, down here in the muck.

Father Grigori crossed himself. "May the Lord grant them eternal peace, in his Kingdom." Katya held a finger to her lips, though, wishing he would shut up. The darkness up ahead was silent, punctuated by the sloshing sound of the water lapping at the worn brick. She was sure she had heard something, though, and took several steps forward, her rifle at the ready.

"Katya…" But Katya shot him a glare, her fingers feeling for the safety of the rifle. They found it next to the trigger guard, and she pushed it in, releasing the safety.

In the silence, it made a very unnerving _click_.

They came almost the instant the sound faded into the abyss. The water rustled, and the shrieks of the fast zombies filled the cavern, echoing off of so many surfaces that Adrian couldn't tell where they were coming from. He pulled the .45 from his belt with blinding speed, and tried desperately to find the source of the screaming. The sloshing water became more violent, the distant splashing beginning to sound like a violent waterfall. Adrian turned his backs to the others, his pistol whipping up to meet the darkness.

And met several of the things crawling on the _goddamn_ walls.

The report broke through the crashing, splashing, and shrieking. One of the creatures was blown back, it's half digested, emaciated corpse flailing in the muddy water. Before he couldn't let off another shot, though, Katya had turned and trained her own weapon on the pursuing brood. The semi-automatic fire of the rifle cracked so fast, and so often, Adrian barely had time to choose his shots.

"Quickly!" Father screamed over the gunfight. "We must push forward! We're almost there!" Another set of the creatures lunged forward out the darkness, intent on ripping Katya limb from limb. Adrian swung the powerful pistol to the left and pulled the trigger, splattering gore across the walls of the sewer.

"Move!" Katya yelled, pushing Adrian back, in Father's direction. Taking several more shots in the fading light of the old mans flashlight, she turned to follow suit.

Adrian sloshed through the muck, desperately trying to follow the frantic gait of the old Father. Behind him he could still hear the mixture of shrieks, as well as Katya's own feet following closely.

"They move… so goddamn _fast_!" He screamed through labored breath. Katya didn't respond; there was no need to.

Father Grigori's flashlight flickered this way and that, as he pumped his arms, straining to make it to their exit. Adrian finally caught up with him, and could see what the Father was so excited about.

Only meters away, and old iron door stood as solid and immovable as a mountain. A large wheel on the front to open it looked rusted, but Adrian didn't care. He looked back to see their pursuers hadn't given up the chase, and turned to fire several shots, doing little more than scattering a larger group into several smaller ones.

The old man nearly slammed straight into the door, and he grasped for the rusted wheel, and heaved with all his strength. When it didn't budge, though, Adrian lent his help.

"Get that thing open!" Katya screamed, turning to snipe several of the their closest targets. The thick wheel screeched, and began to move. Adrian's body buckled as he struggled to get to turn just several more inches. Between the wheezing of the old man, now spent, and Katya's frantic attempt to hold the rest of the monsters at bay, Adrian began to feel that same detachment he had felt in the warehouse, the out of body experience he had when he was dreaming, and he felt as though his body wasn't quite his own. He felt his arms move independently of his will, and the metal wheel shrieked against the new found strength, slowly turning.

The click of the lock disengaging was like sweet music, and Adrian pulled the door open with the last of his strength. The three piled in, heaving in exhaustion, and Katya slammed the door shut, locking it behind them.

No sooner had she stepped away from it, though, the monsters were pounding at it in earnest. Frustrated cries resounded from behind the iron door, but it would hold.

X X X

"Everyone okay?" Katya inquired, checking herself for wounds. Adrian sat propped up against an aging storage locker that they had found in the small room, an anteroom of sorts to a small workstation for the sewage control.

Several biohazard suits hung off of coat hangers, a small, sadly empty first aid kit hung from the opposite wall. Father was reloading his rifle, and hardly looked up to reply.

"We haven't much time, we must leave Ravenholm before the sun sets. The twilight hour is our greatest enemy." Adrian nodded and stood up, stretching his aching tendons.

The sewer maintenance station was small, and held little more than several empty desks and an old, badly beaten map of the local sewer system. But a shaky set of stairs later and the trio found a run down lobby of the civil service department of the old town of Ravenholm. Notices of public events, in several languages, crowded an old bulletin board, and a reception desk splashed with an old blood stain were the only things, fortunately, to great them.

The window looking out into the streets were broken or covered in dust, obscuring their view of the outside. The double front doors, though, hung open. They swung in the wind of the twilight, the repetitive squeaking grating on everyone's nerves.

Father took the lead and peered out of the crack between the two doors, scanning the outside. Satisfied that the zombies weren't anywhere near them, he turned to Katya and Adrian.

"This is where we must part ways, you will follow this street until you come upon a large factory warehouse," Adrian and Katya both grimaced at the thought of entering _another_ warehouse, "Behind that warehouse is an entrance the coal mines. They will take you straight to our friends, they'll be expecting you."

"And what will you do, father?" Katya asked. The old man simply smiled.

"My child, I shall stay here, and tend to my flock. Besides, there may be other souls, such as yourselves, who will need respite from the dark night that Ravenholm has become." And with that he turned and left the way they had come.

"How do you think he'll make it back?" Adrian said, turning to Katya.

Several gunshots echoed off in the distance, complimented by an increasingly insane laughter. Katya turned back to the door, completely ignoring the sounds.

"Oh I'm sure he'll find a way."

X X X

Dead didn't describe the state of the street they crept along, Adrian wasn't sure he could find a word himself. It was completely silent, save for the rustling of the wind. Dead leaves and faded newspapers blew this way and that, and the two hoped their journey would be an uneventful one.

Adrian followed Katya, his pistol held out in front of him, anticipating the worst. Every movement, every cricket chirp, every squeaky door hinge made the two sink to their knees, or scuttle into an alleyway, desperately afraid that they'd been seen. But each time the sounds would dissipate, nor were they ever accompanied by the distinct moans, so the two continued on.

It wasn't until the sun had almost set that they came across their first obstacle. Adrian had been watching their backs, scanning the street behind them, when he bumped into Katya, who had stopped and crouched down, her body flat against the wall of the brick building they found themselves next to.

"What?…" But Katya brought her finger to her mouth, silencing Adrian. She then pointed out to the middle of the street.

Zombies lay everywhere, their bodies ripped and torn. Several had been severed at the hips, their upper halves lying limp around a crater that took up half the street. Katya slowly got up from her position and, her rifle held out menacingly, skirted around the group, doing her best to keep her footsteps quiet. These corpses were fresh, comparatively for the undead, and Adrian assumed Katya was afraid some of them might not be as dead as they appeared.

He unfortunately found himself correct when one of the halved corpses at his feet began to grumble and its body began to shift. Katya stopped mid step and looked horrifyingly on, as the monster pulled itself towards Adrian's numb figure, its entrails forming a sickening tail behind it.

But the bloodied and torn figure wasn't as scary as the sound that came out of it's mouth. The moan wasn't very loud, but it carried in the silence that preceded it. And soon, before the pair's eyes, the mound of supposedly dispatched zombies began to quiver, and many of them that hadn't been completely destroyed crawled towards Adrian, who still hadn't moved.

It took Katya, who had finally regained her composure, to wrench Adrian from his mind numbing fear, as she pulled on his arm, dragging him away from the scene.

"Shit! They'll call in the reinforcements soon!" She cried. Adrian shook his head, the fog drifting away slowly.

"Run!" He yelled, taking charge. The two rushed through the maze of burned out cars and decaying bodies. And as the city buildings gave way to more industrial, spacious lots, the two finally came upon a lone warehouse, situated next to a hill that rose to meet the mountains overlooking the city. "That's got to be it!" Adrian said, running up to the chain link fence that surrounded it.

"Great!" Katya yelled over his enthusiasm. "Because here comes trouble!" She pointed behind them, down the way they had come. Another group of the undead, lead by the vicious fast versions of the zombies, made their way over, instead of around the wreckage, frenzied in their pursuit.

Adrian held out his hands and Katya stepped into them, boosting herself over the fence, while he climbed quickly over. Katya was already sprinting towards the open door as Shephard hit the dirt.

The two ran under the large metal door and Katya immediately brought it down behind them, hoping to buy time. The metal slammed as it hit the concrete floor, and the dark room became even darker. Thought not as large as the one they had been trapped in earlier, the room was spacious enough to be easily consumed by the darkness, and Adrian grappled for his flashlight.

Finding it, he quickly hit flicked it on, illuminating the machine shop floor.

"You're fucking kidding me." His jaw fell open.

His comment was met by the moans of over a dozen zombies, all crouched over the corpse of some poor animal. Blocking their way to the other side of the warehouse, they all rose to meet him, their arms still full of their decomposing prey.

Katya brought her rifle up to fire, but the zombies were too close, and they had little time to take action. One took a swing at Katya, who deftly ducked out of the way and came up swinging the rifle like a club, smacking the zombie on the head. Disoriented, it fell backwards slightly, letting its guard down. During this short second, Katya brought her knee up, kicking it squarely in the gut, causing it to double over.

"Adrian!" She said, pointing. Shephard quickly took aim and put a bullet in the parasite.

Adrian grimaced as the window next to them broke, and he assumed the ones outside were trying to make their way in, they would be sandwiched soon.

But before the two could react, the bright glow of a red LED pierced the blackness, as it hit the concrete floor and bounced into the group of approaching zombies.

"Take cover!" A voice from his left cried, and Shephard felt someone push them out of the way of the impending explosion. The warehouse rocked as the grenade went off, blasting the remaining windows out and showing the inside with light. Blood and gore spewed everywhere, coating the inside with a red film. Adrian, recovering from the shock of the blast, scrambled for his flashlight and brought it up to see the face of their rescuer.

"We must go, the others will soon be outside." Ivan said, his AK-47 out and loaded.

Katya looked genuinely surprised, not to mention relieved. "Ivan!" She said throwing her arms around the large man. "Father? How is he?" Ivan pushed her away and pointed towards the back of the workshop.

"We need to make it to the mines!" He yelled as the metal door behind them burst into the music of several dozen claws rattling against it. "That door wont hold long."

Adrian nodded and followed; he knew if Ivan was alive, there was a good chance everyone else was, too. The three exited through an office at the back of the building and sprinted through the small backyard, which was cluttered with workers' uniforms and mining equipment.

The elevator lay at the back, an old rickety machine. Ivan pushed the two on and threw the release next to it, and the old elevator shuddered to life.

The ride was anxiously slow, and the elevator stopped several times for what seemed like hours. The moans of the creatures above eventually faded as they descended deeper into the Earth, finally dissipating into nothing.

Katya finally broke the silence. "Where are the others?" Ivan, who had been standing motionless like a statue, his rifle at the ready, seemed to ease, as someone finally began talking.

"They escaped; they're out of the city." Was all he said. This brought relief to the both of them.

"Why did you stay behind?" Adrian inquired, though he knew a man as enigmatic as Ivan probably needed no explanation of the risks behind wandering the streets of an infested city.

"I knew that your escape attempt might not be successful without help. I offered to go in the General's stead." Again, he left it at that. A man of few words for sure. Shephard could imagine the man prowling the streets o Ravenholm, as lithe as a cat, stalking the alleys until he had found them.

The trio knew that the elevator ride was coming to an end when the elevator began to slow considerably, but didn't stop. They braced themselves, weapons bared, for the final stop. And as the platform finally shuttered to a halt they found themselves aiming at nothing but a hollowed out tunnel in the rock. Several old floodlights, flickering on and off, gave the impression of a long corridor that seemed to decline, until it finally rounded a corner.

Ivan took the lead, his heavy combat boots thudding lightly on the dirt. "Stay tight, we don't know what's down here."

The unknown down here is better than what they _knew _was above them right now, Shephard thought. The three tread the long corridor of Earth until they rounded that distant corner, and came upon a fissure in the ground, braced by a network of wooden beams, that seemed to trail down even farther into the depths. A dilapidated footbridge, broken with age, hung from the other side.

The fissure, though, wasn't wide enough to preclude jumping across, and Ivan did just that as he came upon it, not even breaking stride. Adrian, however, wasn't so confident, and built some speed before barreling across the gap. He landed on his knees, and turned back to watch Katya, who sailed over the edge with grace equal to Ivan's. Except when she landed on the opposite edge, the Earth gave way, and she slipped, her eyes widening with fear. Her hands windmilled and she grasped for the edge as she fell past.

"Katya!" Adrian yelled, his voice echoing in the chasm behind her, and he lunged over the edge, his hands grasping her wrist tightly. He caught her and she swung against the chasm's wall, thudding painfully. Ivan pulled Adrian by his legs, and Katya's other hand came up to grip his arm. He looked down into her wide eyes, her lips tense with fear. "Hey," He spoke Softly. "It's okay, I got you." He smiled as wide as he could, but he knew it looked fake. His words, though, seemed to make a difference, as she calmed, and the two were pulled back up.

Shephard, rising to his knees, pulled Katya over the edge. The woman let out a sigh of relief and collapsed on top of Adrian, who fell backwards.

"Ooph!" He breathed out, as the feeling of her body falling against him surprised both of them. Katya looked into Adrian's eyes, and her mouth opened as if to speak, but she quickly looked to the side, obviously embarrassed, and stood up, dusting herself off.

"Thanks." She said in a low voice, her eyes set on the ground. Shephard didn't notice, though, as his eyes too were occupied by an interesting piece of dirt at his feet.

"Yeah…" He began.

"So?" Ivan interrupted, "Shall we?"

X X X

The tunnel didn't loose any of its creepiness the further they followed it. The floodlights, powered by a generator far off, still flickered, causing the hair on the back of Shephard's neck to rise up. But as they descended deeper, they found several odd fluorescent markings alone the way.

An odd triangle with a circle around it appeared at every juncture, an arrow distinguishing the way to go accompanying it. After the third sign, Adrian finally asked Katya what it meant.

"It's the symbol for the resistance." She said with as little emotion as Adrian thought was possible.

"What resistance?"

"Resistance to the Combine." She stated matter-of-factly.

"Do you work with them?" He could hear Ivan snicker next to Katya.

"No, we don't work with them. Father has a very… antagonistic relationship with its leader." Katya said it in such a manner that Shephard assumed that was the end of the discussion. If they were going to see the resistance, he thought, maybe they had information about whom he was. Adrian would only hope.

The long, Earthen corridor finally ended with a blast door that seemed completely out of place way down in the middle of the mines. The trio stopped in front of it, unsure of what to do, but were startled when a pair of cameras dropped down from the ceiling, their red eyes pointed at them.

Clicking several times, the cameras finally returned to their compartments in the ceiling, and the blast doors hissed with hydraulic pressure as they slid to one side, revealing a small room with another blast door at the other end.

"_Proceed_." A mechanical voice ordered them. Shephard led them inside and the blast door quickly closed behind them. At one side of the room a small window, blacked out and certainly a one-way view port, took up most of the wall. Then without warning a gray mist flooded the room, and Ivan shouldered his rifle, ready for combat.

The gray mist was accompanied by a laser net that cross the room, and sliced through each of them, though causing no damage, it went from the top of the room down to the floor, and back again.

"_Humanoid."_ The automated voice began. _"Negative presence of augmentation. Negative presence of decaying cellular structure."_

"They're scanning us to see if we're zombies, or worse, Combine." Katya whispered. The laser finally died, and the blast door opened revealing a dimly lit antechamber.

"_Organic scan approved, authorized for entry."_ The trio exited the room, only to find the antechamber suddenly bathed in darkness.

The doors in front of them exploded open, and several pairs of boots piled into the room, red lasers bounced around in the blackness.

"Drop the weapons!" A voice, female, screamed in the blackness.

"Shit," Katya cursed. "It's a trap!" Shephard felt someone jam a gun barrel into his lower back. He brought his pistol up, holding it by the barrel, and felt someone pull it from his hand.

The lights suddenly came back on, and they found themselves surrounded on all sides by people in armor, that strange symbol emblazoned on their arms, night vision goggles strapped to their heads. Each and everyone soldier had their weapons trained on the group.

The sound of clicking boots trailed off in the corridor outside the door in front of them. As they neared, a figure finally emerged through the door. Her demeanor was cool as she regarded the individuals.

Shephard eyed her viciously in return. He wasn't in the mood to have guns pointed at him. She took the rifle Ivan had been carrying from one of the other soldiers and approached the three. She stood toe to toe with Katya, who glared right back.

"_Well_." She began. "Fancy meeting you here. You're the absolute last person, save maybe your father, I'd _ever_ expect to see down here."

"Nice seeing you too, Alyx." Katya spat back.

They knew each other? Adrian lost his piercing glare, in favor of surprise and astonishment. The woman named Alyx stepped away from Katya, passed by the tall figure of Ivan, who took a step forward. This caused several of the guards to take aim, and Alyx to take a half-step back, but sneered in mock-contempt. She then passed by Shephard, her nose high in the air as she sized him up.

Finally she stepped back towards the door, and nodded to the guards, who all lowered their weapons.

"Welcome to Black Mesa East."

A/N: Okay, okay, okay. I know this chapter has been too long in coming. But as someone of you, mainly Edcrab, know, this part of the story was giving me the worst trouble, a little writer's block. But now that I got past it, I have the rest for the story mapped out, so this kind of wait will no longer happen! It's now in my calendar to have this story completed and ready for a, yes I promise this, sequel, by the time Episode two comes out. But don't worry! There's sill plenty more story left!

As always, reviews are loved beyond words!


	19. Black Mesa Revisited

_What if I wanted to break  
Laugh it all off in your face  
What would you do? (Oh, oh)  
What if I fell to the floor  
Couldn't take all this anymore  
What would you do, do, do?_

_Come break me down  
Bury me, bury me  
I am finished with you_

_What if I wanted to fight  
Beg for the rest of my life  
What would you do?  
You say you wanted more  
What are you waiting for?  
I'm not running from you (from you)_

_Come break me down  
Bury me, bury me  
I am finished with you  
Look in my eyes  
You're killing me, killing me  
All I wanted was you_

The Kill – 30 Seconds to Mars

Shephard's Story

-Black Mesa Revisited-

"Wait, Katya, wait, you know her?" Shephard asked, trying to keep up with her frantic gait, as they were lead down the cavernous halls of the underground facility. The name Black Mesa East had drudged up feelings, feelings he was afraid to explore, so he preoccupied himself with the situation at hand.

Katya followed the two guards, both dressed in blue denim and sporting submachine guns, on their way to the barracks, where they would be held until they could figure out how to get home. "Her name's Alyx Vance, the daughter of one of the surviving members of the Black Mesa research team."

"Black Mesa research team?" Katya just shook her head, another thing to be addressed later.

"You see all this shit around us? The Combine? The aliens? It's their fault." One of the guards turned and shot her a dirty look and Katya lowered her voice, maybe it was best not to piss off the people who were providing you shelter. "He's the head of the resistance, Eli Vance I mean. I knew they had a base in the mountains around City 17, I just had no idea it was so close to Ravenholm." The woman that had introduced herself as Alyx had walked off with a group of heavily armed rebels, not saying a word, and leaving two less lethal looking types to guide them somewhere they could rest.

Katya stopped talking after that, and Adrian fell back into step with Ivan who, as usual, was less than unemotional. "Hey, why do we hate the resistance again?" Ivan snorted again, and ignored the question. "They're the good guys though, right? Why aren't we helping them, giving them weapons?"

"We do what the General tells us to do, and we _do_ give the rebels weapons… in exchange for food and information." _Oh,_ Shephard realized, it was a business relationship.

They traversed several stairways until coming up a large open room, with three stone columns on each side, the walls a sickly duo of cream and burgundy. Dozens of cots, on top of rusty bed frames, dotted the rooms, and several more people clad in blue denim loitered around the middle common area, which sported tables and a chessboard.

This is where their guides left them. "You can rest here, the doctors will see you soon."

Shephard picked a cot at random and plopped down, his body nearly convulsing at the feeling of rest. Ivan took the cot directly across from him, and Katya sat next to Adrian. They were silent for sometime, each looking around the room to get a feel for the surroundings, mainly exits, if the need arose. At the other end of the room was a large elevator shaft, its door blocked by an old style wrought iron fence that would bend and fold to allow entry.

"So… are we in any danger?" Shephard asked, sensing the tense atmosphere. Ivan sighed and reclined on the cot, folding his hands over his stomach, and resting his eyes.

"No, they're harmless, a little paranoid, but harmless still. I imagine we'll meet with Dr. Vance before we're permitted to leave. He's had enough dealings with my father to trust us. But I'm sure we'll get the same 'Loose Lips Sick Ships' crap that we get every time we make a drop." She must have been referring to the drops of weapons and ammunition they must make for the rebels.

"So why don't we work directly with them? Wouldn't a combined effort be our best chance?"

"Look, it's hard to explain." She paused for a moment. "Well, no, that's a lie, it _is_ easy to explain. We don't work with them because," she back to lower her voice, "…father is sure that one day, the combine are going to find them, and every single person you see here." She said gesturing to the people at the other end of the room. "And all their friends caught up in the resistance are going to be taken off to the nearest Combine detention center, and have god-knows what done to them. Father wont have any part of it, he thinks we can make it just fine on our own. And when the Combine are done with Earth, and they don't have anymore use for it, they'll leave, and we can start over again, there is absolutely no need for us to be out there risking our necks." Her voice soon took on a spiteful tone. "But hey, if they want to take the heat off of us by laying waste to a couple of Overwatch stations, good on 'em."

There really wasn't much to say to that display of utter narcissism, so Adrian let it rest at that. Katya, fuming from her tirade, got up and began pacing the room, her rhythmic footsteps echoing in the large room. The bed began calling his name, and Shephard let himself fall back into it. They were safe, for now, and that's all that mattered. And as the blackness crept into his consciousness, Adrian sighed and let it overtake him, knowing his dreams, however nightmarish they were, could not match the teeth and fangs of the monsters they had survived.

Or was he mistaken?

X X X

"So where the hell are we, anyways?" Aaron yelled from the backseat the scout car. The team had exited the infested city not so long ago, and was now creeping along the cracked and decaying roads that would lead through the mountains and down to the hydro power plant. "I still don't see why Ivan had to go and risk his life by following those two." Aaron grumbled, angry not at the fact that he cared about the man, but that it was an unnecessary risk of an experienced fighter.

"Do you have a better idea, Aaron?" Slick replied from the passenger seat. "The general told Ivan the Hydro electric dam where we would meet, it's as good a location as any."

Sasha sat quietly through all this; his mind boiling over with what if's about the fate of Katya and that Shephard man. He had seemed like a harmless enough individual, but after learning about his actions upon the catwalk, he wasn't so sure.

"_Maybe he's an Overwatch soldier who made it through the training phase, but cut and ran before they could augment him?"_ Yuri had suggested. Though Sasha doubted that anyone could escape a Citadel, the idea made him think. Made him think that maybe there was more to this man than they previously thought.

The light had finally faded in the distance, and they were nearing the hydro dam, since he could hear the rushing water even over the whine of the engines. It would have been easier, he supposed, to just have Ivan meet them outside the city, it was close, as compared to the several mile trek down the mountain. But after Stanley had broke that last lock, Sasha was sure an alarm must have gone off in some Overwatch Nexus somewhere, and he didn't want to be caught at the scene of the crime.

The road finally ended with a large chain link fence with several pre-war signs restricting access. A small guard hut stood lonely and abandoned next to the gate. Sasha parked the scout car and got out, the van with Yuri and Stanley pulling up just seconds later, their engine dieing as well. The only light now came from the slowly dieing headlamps.

Pulling out a packet of cigarettes, Sasha lit one and waited for everyone to gather round.

"So what's the plan now, chief?" Stanley asked.

Sasha took a puff and pulled the smoking butt from between his lips. "Now?" He blew the smoke out. "Now, we wait."

X X X

"Jesus, talk about a shitty return on investment." Stanley complained as he and Slick took stock of what they had grabbed from the warehouse. A box of Heckler and Koch MP7's, pretty ordinary, nothing special about them, and the corresponding 9mm ammunition. Aaron had used the remaining rockets for the RPG, so nothing much for them to salvage there. He held up one of the empty containers and waved it at Slick.

"I guess we could sell it to someone to use for a time capsule? Remember those?" Slick didn't look up to reply, as she sorted through a box of medical gauss, something of worth, at least.

"Yeah, like anybody's gonna be alive in da future to open it up." She snorted. The rest of the boxes yielded little more than ammunition for weapons they didn't have, and several dozen packages of MRE's.

"Woo, we'll be eating like kings, that's for sure." Stanley giggled, his flashlight dancing across the freeze-dried and tasteless military rations.

"Well at least we wont be starvin', though I wouldn't tell Aaron. You know how hates dese t'ings." Slick let herself smile. "On second thought, maybe we _should_ tell 'im."

"Tell me _what_?" Came an irritated voice from behind them. The two turned and saw the figure of Aaron, rifle slung behind his back, sillouetted in the moonlight.

"Nothing." Stanley immediately chirped.

"Yeah nothing." Slick agreed, her smile hidden by the blackness.

Aaron stood motionless for a while before turning and walking around the other side of the truck, his own cigarette in between his lips. "I swear to buddha there better be some _real_ food in there, not just some freeze-dried crap." He grumbled loud enough to hear. The two had to cover their mouths to keep from laughing.

The air outside was near freezing, and Aaron could see his breath join the puffs of smoke as he leaned against a rock near the cliff face that lead down to the river below. Across the way he could see Sasha and Yuri discussing something over a map, but it didn't concern him, so he didn't care.

Setting another cigarette between his lips, he lit a match, and for the briefest of seconds thought he saw another shadow next to his, but brushed it off as fatigue. He grumbled at the thought of Katya and Adrian causing such a mess, and thought about all the ways he would make them miserable for putting him in this position.

That's when the cold steel fell against his neck, and the female voice next to him spoke very softly, but authoritatively.

"Move and I kill you, you fucking scavenger." Aaron froze, the smoking ember dieing in the moonlight. He wanted to yell, wanted to scream for the others to watch out, that it was an ambush but… "Now we're going to play this nice and easy, how many of you are there? I saw two in the truck and two outside, that it?" Aaron nodded frantically, the blade digging deeper into his stubble. "Are you lying to me? Because I swear if you are, your neck isn't the only thing getting cut." Aaron's eyes grew wide and he shook his head. The knife relaxed slightly but didn't move from its spot underneath his chin. "Alpha one, this is eagle one, four Charlie remain, confirm, two in the transport, two outside."

That's when all hell broke loose, several shapes, black as the night sky, surrounded the truck and scout car, their faces masks of black paint and topped with night vision goggles. They crouched and moved silently, their submachine guns at the ready, and then they struck. They turned on their flashlights and shone them in the eyes of Sasha and Yuri who, unarmed, could only stand belligerently against their aggressors, who pushed them to their knees and tied restraints around their wrists.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Sasha yelled defiantly as Stanley and Slick were escorted out of the truck at gunpoint, their hands high in the air.

"Shut up." One of the soldiers ordered.

"Jesus." Stanley sighed. "What the hell is it with our luck today?"

X X X

The excruciating heat of the desert sun once again settled upon Adrian's tired skin, and he felt the weight of his M4 shudder as he cracked off several rounds. His breathing was erratic as he tried once more to fruitlessly take control of his body, but as it was every time, his muscles refused to bend to his will. His commanding officer stood next to him, his own weapon up and firing, albeit more accurately, and with less hesitation.

Another citizen fell to the ground, and Adrian couldn't tell if he had shot the poor old man, or if the crazed lunatic next to him had.

The scar-covered man stopped firing for a moment and reached for a radio on his vest. "This is Major Aldrich, I want this place cleared out in ten, and prep me some skinnies for the body bags. I feel some promotions comin' on!" The sick twisted individual then waved Adrian to follow him, and Shephard felt his legs move to match the man's frantic pace.

"Sir! But they had nothing to do with this!" He heard himself nearly scream out through labored breathing. The man stopped in place and turned, his face a mixture of disbelief and revulsion.

"Had _nothing_ to do with this? You mean this war? You mean this camel-jockies had nothing to do with the IED's, and the boobytraps, and the fact that no matter how many supply-lines we cut, the Iraqi's are never quite unarmed?" He pulled out his pistol and shot a man running by, with the ease and callousness Adrian had never seen. "_Fuck_ them, and fuck their town. Now you listen to me, you will obey my order and raise it to the ground!" Shephard felt himself step back, as if he had been physically struck.

"But it's against the rules of…" Shephard was pretty sure the killing of unarmed civilians was against the rules of war, but Aldrich didn't want to hear it, and cut him off.

"The rules of war do not apply when your commanding officer issues you an order!" He screamed, his scars nearly pulsating. His gaze never leaving Adrian's, he grabbed a passing soldier by his collar.

"Weinman, you and Shephard check that hut to our twelve, roger?" His voice was nearly shaking with anger, and the private nodded frantically. "You make sure not to hog all the fun, Sergeant Shephard here still hasn't bagged himself a trophy." He spat viciously in Shephard's direction.

Soon Adrian could feel the hot sand underneath pass by as the two made their way to a nearby hut. They stood on opposite sides of the doorway, listening intently for any sounds. The private, a short man with sandy blond hair and eyes that betrayed his young age, looked eagerly on.

"Weinman, we need to stop this, now…" But the soldier hadn't been listening, at least not to the whole statement.

"Now? Roger!" And he kicked in the door, Shephard at his back. Immediately they were met with the screams of a woman and several children, all huddled near a corner.

Shephard had his rifle up, not knowing if they would face any resistance. His trigger finger jittered, and his hands couldn't stop trembling. Suddenly there was a loud _crack_ and Adrian felt his heart stop, and his finger pull down on the trigger, hot lead pouring out the tip of his rifle.

The woman screamed, and blood flew across the wall behind her, and she slumped down to the floor, her body covering several of the small children. Adrian lowered his rifle, his mind screaming, crying out, asking him what he had done.

And then the Earth began to shake.

X X X

But it hadn't been in his dreams. Shephard woke up, sore and sweating, to the feeling that the ground beneath him might give way. The whole room shook violently, and soon Katya was at his side.

"What the hell is going on?" Ivan was soon on his feet.

"Earthquake?" He posited.

"No, it started too suddenly, more like an explosion." Katya added.

But nearly as quickly as it had begun, it had stopped. The three stood in the silence that now engulfed them. But from the end of the room, near the elevator shaft, the sound of cries of triumph, whistles and catcalls, filled the air. Adrian, Katya, and Ivan made their way to the opening, and listened to the noise down below.

"My god it works! It works!" An enthusiastic female boomed. "And look Eli, the package made it through the Xen relay without breaking through border world space, the sling shot method worked!"

Another voice, a male voice, responded. "I knew Izzy could get it working, now lets see what they sent us."

There was silence, accompanied by someone gasping. "Oh, oh my god, what _is_ that?"

"Great scott, is… is that a _cat_?"

"_Was_ a cat seems to be more appropriate."

Adrian and Katya exchanged disgusted glances. What the hell were they working on down here?

A voice, filtered through a speaker interjected. "Hey doc, how'd it go? Did the transmission go through?"

"Oh yeah… it went through alright." A cynical female voice answered him.

"What's that supposed to mean?" The voice inquired.

Katya stepped away from the metal door and sighed.

"It's their fault, you know." She said slumping onto a bench in front of one of the chess games, still in progress. Adrian sat down next to her, and Ivan opposite them. "They're the ones who brought the combine _here_. If it weren't for their meddling, we wouldn't be in this mess. So many people wouldn't be dead. My mom…" Adrian saw the promise of tears in her eyes, but quickly wiped them away, she was stronger than that.

Adrian knew she must have lost a lot of important people in the war. "So why do you trade with them?"

"Father says you do what has to be done to survive. The resistance is his best customer." She brought a gloved hand to her faced and wiped a fresh tear away, and Adrian let his hand fall on her leg, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Hey…" But she wasn't in the mood to talk, and quickly stood up, making her way to a cot on the other side of the room. Adrian looked to Ivan, who was staring intently at the chessboard, scrutinizing its pieces. "She isn't very forthcoming with her feelings, is she?"

Ivan was silent for a while, still pondering over the pieces. "Would you be?" He looked over in her direction; she had slumped down on one of the dirty cots and curled up into the fetal position, her back to the men. "She's lost everyone, save the general." Adrian noticed he never referred to the man as her father, or Sasha. Strange, he thought. "She's seen her planet subjugated and had to learn fear from a very young age."

Adrian was quiet, had he lost anyone in the war? He must have, no one seemed to have survived without losing something. "What about you? What were you before the war?"

Ivan smiled, and Adrian thought he might have suppressed a giggle. "There is no 'before the war' now. There's only the here and now, there's always _only_been the here and now. And, sadly, the here and now's controlled by the Combine." And with that he took hold of on the chess pieces, the knight, and loved into position near the king. Satisfied with his cryptic answer, he stood up and walked away, towards a water dispenser, leaving Adrian with the chess game.

Shephard stared intently at the chess pieces, trying to occupy his mind instead of trying to decode what Ivan had said.

Until he noticed that the game was a checkmate.

X X X

She had the air of a know-it-all, and Shephard didn't like her one bit. Her auburn hair done up in a bun, and her neatly pressed dress pants and spotless cream turtleneck sweater was out of the norm. Every other person Adrian had seen wasn't even half as clean. She had ridden the elevator up to find the three of them sitting in different stages of utter boredom.

"Eli will see you now." Was all she said, pointing to the elevator. Adrian snapped awake and followed Katya, who wouldn't meet his gaze, and Ivan. The elevator ride up was uneventful, just the way Shephard liked them. The woman, who had curtly introduced herself as Judith Mossman, took little interest in them, and was silent for the entirety of the elevator ride.

The lift came to a jarring stop as they hit the top floor, and Judith lead them down a short corridor and into a small room that must have served as a conference room. Several tables, of differing material, and chairs that differed even more, were arranged in a U-shape around a projector table.

"You can take a seat. The doctor will be right with you." She sounded like a bored secretary, as she offered them their seats, and then promptly exited the room.

"So have you ever met the doctor?" He turned to Katya.

"Once, when his daughter was busy he was the one who was at the drop. He seems nice enough. But then again…" She said rolling her eyes. "Those scientist types are never what they seem."

_Hehe, get it?_

"No, we aren't, aren't we?" A soft voice called from the door. Adrian turned and was greeted by the sight of a kindly, albeit crippled, old man. A makeshift prosthetic was attached to his right leg, looking more like a hook than a leg. Despite this obvious impediment, the doctor moved around on it as though it were his original flesh and blood appendage. He stood in front of the three, smiling broadly, the wrinkles in his forehead creasing, and offered his hand to each one. "Eli Vance. My apologies for making you wait so long, we're really quite busy here. Katya it's good to see you again." Katya took his hand, but no warmth was in the shake.

"You as well, Dr. Vance." The man nodded and pulled a seat up opposite all of them.

"Now, I'm more than pleased that we could offer you sanctuary, its been so long since I last had contact with father Grigori, that I had begun to think the good priest was no longer with us. But there's still a measure of secrecy we need to discuss…"

But he was interrupted as the door swung open and Sasha, accompanied by Aaron and Yuri, barged in.

"Eli!" Sasha nearly screamed. "What is the meaning of this?! Held at gunpoint, shoved around like a CP in the wrong part of town!" But all his angry faded when he saw the three sitting across from Dr. Vance. "Katya? Katya!"

Katya nearly jumped across the table and the two embraced tightly. "My god, I thought I'd never see you again." He choked out. Katya buried her face in his shoulder.

"It seems you have this man to thank for that, Sasha." Eli said, nodding in Shephard's direction. The general locked eyes with Adrian and nodded, his thanks evident.

"Ok, this teary-eyed shit is getting to me." Aaron said, stepping between Sasha and Vance. "What the hell is with all the cloak and dagger crap, Vance?"

"Aaron…" Yuri tried to defuse the situation.

"You were trespassing." Alyx, the woman who had proctored their own capture said from the doorway. "Plus, your antics in Ravenholm has brought the Overwatch closer to our base than ever before." She looked to her father. "Dad, Overwatch overlooked the dam, but next time we might not be so lucky."

Eli stood up. "That's exactly what I was getting to. Sasha, we've never given you our location before. To be honest, I don't trust you. I can't trust a man whose not willing fight for his species."

"Now Eli, do we really want to get into this fight again?" Sasha replied condescendingly. "Do we really want to play the blame game? Because you know I've got the trump card, _Doctor._" Eli was silent for a moment, and Adrian could see the anger in Alyx's eyes.

"The point is; can I trust you to keep this place a secret? All I have is your word." Sasha was quiet, but nodded just the same. "Good. Now, if you'd like, you can leave. Your transports were brought inside to escape the Overwatch sweep."

"Yeah, I think we're done here." Sasha said, turning to the door. Alyx still stood in his way and he took a step forward, coming toe to toe with the young woman, whose angry gaze was fixed on him.

"Alyx!" Eli pleaded with her.

"You can blame my father all you want." She spat. "But he's doing more than _you_ are to make it right. At least he can say that." And with that she stepped aside.

Everyone filed out, Adrian last. As he neared the door, he felt a hand take hold of his shoulder, and he turnedto face Eli.

"You… I haven't seen you before with Sasha's group. Have you been with him long?" Adrian shook his head.

"No I…"

"What city did you come from? Around here? City 17?" Adrian shook his head. Maybe this was his chance to get some answers, the doctor seemed interested enough in him.

"Actually, I don't quite know…"

But Sasha's voice, stern and cold, beckoned him from the door. "Adrian, we're leaving." His tone left little room for argument. He nodded apologetically to Eli, who returned a warm smile.

"If you ever have second thoughts… You know where we are."

X X X

"What the hell? Where's that box of MP7's?" Aaron yelled angrily from the back of the truck. They sat inside a small maintenance garage that had housed their transports.

"They were confiscated. They weren't yours in the first place." The cold, emotionless voice of Judith Mossman said from the back of the garage. Everyone turned and watched her march across the garage floor, a small package in her hand.

"Sasha Destovaya?" She said eyeing the general. She held out the small brown cardboard box. "Eli wanted me to give this to you. He say's you've probably not seen this before. You have a working laboratory, correct?" Sasha nodded in Stanley's direction. "With instruments to perform a spectral analysis?" Stanley took the package and opened the top, a green light escaping and painting his otherwise pallid complexion.

"Whoa, what is this? Toxic goo?" Adrian recognized the strange glow and reached inside, pulling a vial of the same liquid that had remedied Katya's infection.

"No, it's quite the opposite, really."

"It's a medicine." Adrian revealed.

"More specifically, its an anti-toxic mixed with a variety of infection-combating anti-septic strains we're still trying to isolate and classify. Like most things here, it's stolen combine technology. But Eli thought you could use some. So, in place of the weapons you _stole_." She stressed the word. "We've supplied you with a small stock of the green plasma. Eli was hoping you could take a look at it. We're bogged down enough here as it is. A little help would be appreciated." Though the way she spoke, it didn't sound like it would be.

"That's all well and good, lady, but I want my _goddamn _guns." Aaron hopped down off the back of the truck and sauntered over to the group, hoping his imposing figure would make her change her mind.

But as the two came face to face, Aaron's look of manly machismo faded, and his face muscles twitched with nervousness. Mossman, usually placid and unemotional, also began to show signs of discomfort. Both stood in an awkward silence for a moment.

"Problem, Aaron?" Yuri pressed.

Aaron shook his head and turned back to the truck. "No… no, everything else seems to be in there. I think we're good to go." And with that, he jumped back into the back of the van and began rechecking the stock. Everyone stood in perplexed silence for a moment before Mossman cleared her throat.

"Also, Eli wanted me to give you this." She said, pulled a small envelope from her back pocket. "For your eyes only, _General_." Sasha snapped it out of her grip and tucked it inside his navy jumpsuit. "In that case, I think we're done here." And, eyeing Aaron's form once more, she turned and left the garage.

"What the hell was that about?" Stanley said, looking in Aaron's direction.

"I don't know…" Sasha began. "But I'll ask him."

As the group began to suit up and roll out, Adrian was stopped when Sasha gripped his shoulder. "Adrian… I want… I want to thank you." He watched Katya slide into the passenger seat of the van and curl up, her eyelids threatening to fall. "She's… all I have left, of her mother. So…" Adrian just nodded; Sasha didn't seem very good at this sort of thing.

"Don't worry. We're all okay, that's all that matters."

"Yeah…" He said, watching Aaron climb into the back of the truck. But was that really true?

Everyone loaded and ready, one of the many refugees opened the garage door and the team was met with the crisp cool air of the dawn. And as they rolled out, Sasha thumbed the letter. The envelope was yellowed with age, obviously used before. The two addressed were crossed out and Sasha's name was scribbled on the front. Why, Sasha thought, had he been so quick to leave.

They were the last people, maybe besides the Combine; he thought they needed help from. Getting mixed up with them was a quick ticket to Nova Prospekt, one-way. That was his answer, but was it really true? Why had he felt so protective when he saw Eli and Adrian conversing?

Maybe he didn't want the rebels finding out about Adrian. Finding out he was different. But what _is_ so different about Adrian? His mind closed in on itself, the sheer amount of unanswerable questions forcing a heavy burden on his sleep-deprived mind. His ripped open the letter, tearing the tape that had served in place of the old-style glue, and pulled out the letter.

_Sasha,_

_I have a favor to ask of you… Things have begun to get… complicated._

Sasha read further, trying to decipher the cryptic chicken scratch Eli called handwriting. But as his eyes brushed along the words, they quickly began to widen, and he fought to suppress a gasp.

X X X

A/N: Hello everyone! Would have posted sooner, but the excitingness of the midterm elections kept me pretty preoccupied. Anyways, contrary to what my last reviewer said, Episode Two is not already out. If it were, you would be hard-pressed to see an update from me! I'm pretty excited for the next installment of the Half-Life story, and of course, the new game "Portal". So unless my steam account lies to me, I think that reviewer must be mistaking EP2 for the EP1 release! But thanks anyways! I wish it _were_ true! To the rest of you, hope you are enjoying the story, and hope you don't forget to review, and tell me what you thought of the latest installment!


	20. Palm Readings

_Its sitting by the overcoat  
The second shelf, the note she wrote  
That I cant bring myself to throw away  
And also  
Reach she said for no one else but you,  
Cuz you wont turn away  
When someone else is gone_

_Im sorry bout the attitude  
I need to give when Im with you  
But no one else would take this shit from me  
And Im so  
Terrified of no one else but me  
Im here all the time  
I wont go away  
Its me, yeah I cant get myself to go away  
Its me, and I cant get myself to go away  
Oh God I shouldnt feel this way_

Long Day – Matchbox Twenty

Shephard's Story

-Palm Readings-

The road back to base seemed to take far longer than it had to go to Ravenholm in the first place. Adrian, leaned up against a foggy window, fought to stay away, his eyes barely focusing on the passing landscape. The car hit a pothole, not unusual for a road this old without maintenance, but the bump was big enough to jostle him out of his stupor.

Coughing slightly and rubbing the exhaustion from his eye-lids, he wiped the condensation from the window and looked outside. Still the same barren desert that had been here before, sorry Toto, we're still not in Kansas anymore.

"How you doing?" Adrian looked next to him, Slick at the wheel. "You lookin' pretty beat up." Adrian just smiled wryly.

"Yeah, well I'm sure an experience like this will do it to you."

"The General might not show it. He ain't the that kind of man. But he's more than thankful than you're ever gonna know." The van followed the scout as it turned off of the highway near a patch of railing that had been ripped apart by an explosion, and followed the makeshift dirt road further inland.

"Hey I don't remember taking this route." Adrian exclaimed.

"We're making a stop." A half-asleep Stanley murmured from the rear.

"We've got to drop some of these supplies off at Claiborne." Slick elaborated. Aaron, next to Stanley in the back, huffed angrily. "Oh stop it Aaron!" Slick snapped back. Regaining her composure, she turned to Adrian. "He doesn't like us making these stops."

"I don't like givin' somethin' for nuthin' is what!"

"Nothing?" Adrian asked.

"The General gives the towns people some of the supplies we glean, and they give us information, or extra food if they have it. Aaron's right, though, we don't get much back." She sighed. "But I respect him for it. They've got it pretty hard out here. Though not as hard as back in the cities…"

"So they aren't part of the numbered cities Katya was telling me about?"

"No, they're people who escaped the cities, people who fled during the war, or people who were here before the mess even started. They've been eekin' out a living for the last decade here, but they get by." The road was much rougher than the highway, and Slick had to maneuver around several large boulders before she finally slowed the van to a crawl.

They finally parked in a small clearing. Dead trees and the looming mountain range in front of them created an ominous backdrop. The skies overhead had begun to cloud over, though Adrian could barely tell since the once-blue sky now had quite a gray tinge to it. He saw the promise of rain in those bloated clouds.

Through the windshield he could the general hop out of the scout car, along with Ivan, Katya, and Yuri. They made their way to the van, as Adrian and the rest pilled out.

"You know the drill. Two boxes; Meds and rations." Aaron grimaced again, and Sasha shot him a look. "Now lets move before the rain sets in."

Adrian tried to meet Katya's eyes but she wasn't in the mood, and headed for the small path that led out of the clearing. Stanley tapped Adrian on the shoulder and pointed towards the back of the van. They pulled out a box of medical rations, though it was heavy, but together the weight wasn't much.

"We should really get inside before the rains hit us. I heard the cities are so polluted these days that when it rains, the acid in it stings your skin." Stanley quipped.

Slick, caring another crate with Aaron, just smiled. "Stan don't be feedin' him none of that horse crap, you know it ain't true." Stanley just giggled in reply as they made their way up the trail.

"So, why haven't the combine found this place yet, why haven't they turned it into another Ravenholm?"

"They aren't exactly friendly with the resistance." Stanley answered. "They've got the same idea the Generals got. Dig in and wait it out."

"Some plan." Adrian muttered. Stanley snapped his head back.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

X X X

Several bends up the trail they could see the outlining of several building rooftops. The city stood in the shadow of the mountains, a large wooden palisade overlooking the trails from the coast, and the small road from inland. As they neared the walls several guards, sitting lazily against the wooden posts, noticed their presence, and quickly stood at attention, their weapons pointed menacingly down upon them.

Adrian stumbled a bit, he didn't like having a gun pointed at him. "Don't worry." Stanley assured him. "It's always like this. Once they recognize us, they'll be all smiles and giggles." And that was true, because as they neared the settlement, the guards lowered their weapons, and the large, metal reinforced gate was slowly raised.

The inside of the town was almost normal. Or as normal as Adrian thought a post-apocalyptic human settlement could be. The streets of the old Eastern European town were, for the most part, clean. Several guards carrying Remington 870 shotguns met them at the gate, theirs eyes suspiciously drawn to Adrian. One of them, the only man wearing surplus Army fatigues and sporting a military style beret, looked to be in charge. He shook Sasha's hand, but nervously looked in Adrian's direction while talking to him. Sasha looked over his shoulder and waved at Shephard to come up.

"Adrian this is Pyotr Alexandrovich. He's in charge of heading up security for Claiborne." Adrian nodded and held his hand out. The man hesitated before returning the gesture, scrutinizing the younger man. Finally he seemed to make up his mind and shook his hand enthusiastically.

"Da, Da I am very glad to be meeting you. I had not seen you before with the General." Shephard just nodded politely. They were, justly, suspicious of new faces. The man finally let go of his hand and turned to the General. "Come, come! The rain is on its way. Let us go inside." He then turned to the two men flanking him and said something in Russian that Adrian couldn't understand, but the guards promptly returned to the palisade walls.

The streets, though clean, we still devoid of life. Adrian could see people in the buildings' broken windows, looking down on the group as they made their way through the maze of city streets. He fell into step with Katya, her usually graceful gait replaced by a slow trudge.

"Hey…" He began, but didn't really know where to go from there.

Katya looked up from the broken cobblestone of the street. "Hey, you okay?" Adrian nodded. He was beginning to get sick of people asking him that. "You?"

Katya shrugged, pulling some of her dirty brown hair out of her face. "I guess this wasn't a really good introduction, was it? Things aren't this bad usually." She said, letting herself laugh. "Its usually pretty mundane. I'm sorry you had to go through it." She stopped for a moment, considering her words. "Wait, I'm glad you did."

Adrian cocked his head in confusion.

"Because I might not be standing here, had you not." She took his hand for a moment and squeezed it, letting the warmth linger. Her soft, pink lips silently formed the words "Thank you."

X X X

The city hall turned garrison barracks suited the group nicely. After setting the crate of supplies down, they were offered food and cots, though Adrian could hardly sleep anymore. While most of the others were passed out, he wandered down some of the hallways, still empty. Several of the rooms he passed were filled with the same boring layout of cots and empty weapon racks.

Walking down a small flight of stairs he found himself in another lonely hallway, but towards its end, he saw an open door, with light pouring out of it. Curious, he found himself waking towards the open door. Halfway down the corridor, he could hear voices. A pair of them, and chattering viciously at that. But being that they were in another language entirely, he had a hard time making sense of it. Straining to hear, he could make out several phrases of broken English, along with Sasha's accented English.

"You're setting yourself up to become another Ravenholm! Do you want that?" He was answered by an angry tirade in Russian. "Bullshit! You think this mountain is going to protect you from the headcrab shelling? Or the gunships? You're only alive because you don't cause any trouble! You're lucky that Overwatch is just hoping you end up getting eaten alive by some wandering Garg!" Again more Russian, followed by several broken lines of English.

"You… you know nothing! You give us food and medicine. But nothing to defend ourselves!"

"I give you enough to live, without making trouble for Overwatch!" Sasha growled in response, but suddenly relaxed. "Pyotr, stop. We can't fight like this." He sighed loudly. "Don't talk to Eli's people. _I'll_ get you weapons and ammunition. Just, for the love of God, don't get involved with _them_." Several more minutes of, calmer, Russian dialogue later, and Adrian could hear the rustling of paper accompanied by the Generals strangely nervous voice. "Now, here's what we really came\ for." More rustling of paper.

"I thought you came to visit because of the vodka!" He heard Pyotr crack.

"Just read the damn letter." Several seconds of silence followed. Adrian crept closer to the doorframe, trying hard to miss anything. Excited Russian followed, and the sound of crinkling paper as well. "I don't know. I don't know how they got those pictures. They still got some of those crazy gizmo's they had before the doom."

"They can not be real! They must be fake." Pyotr responded. What were they looking at?

"I wish they were… But I think they're the real deal."

"And you're brother… you'll tell them how to contact him, da?" The general must have shaken his head, because Pyotr asked him why not.

"I mean I don't know if I will. That's why I came here… to ask you."

"Dmitri, he's still alive?"

"Yep, he's the head of some big shot resistance in America." Adrian filed that piece of information in the back of his mind. Oddly the name Dmitri sounded familiar, which seemed strange considering he couldn't even remember his own name.

"That is why this Eli wants you to help him contact Dmitri." There was more silence for a long time, followed by the sound of metal clinking on glass, a flask maybe. "What about this Adrian? Where did you find him?"

"Found us actually. He was lying in the middle of the road on the eastern ridge, near the base. Just plopped down in the middle of nowhere. Had this fancy armor on, took Yuri a lot of effort to get it off without killing the kid. He's a mystery to say the least. I was thinking maybe Eli's friend…"

"Kleiner?"

"Da, Kleiner might have some of the old military databases stored away. Maybe we can drudge up some information on the kid's family. Not like we really know his name, all we have is some old dog tags to go on, and he doesn't remember shit. But he did rescue Katya… so I think I at least owe him a look into who he is."

"Yuri told me about Ravenholm, he must be some kind of fighter, no?"

"That's another thing…" Sasha began, as Adrian took another step closer to the doorframe. Stepping on a misshapen floorboard elicited a small creak, and Sasha immediately stopped talking. Adrian's ears began pounding, and he quickly made his way into one of the other rooms lining the hallway. He heard footsteps in the hallway, then heard them retreat back into the room.

Things were getting weirder. What was letter they were discussing? And who was Kleiner? Adrian slid down against the doorjamb and exhaled silently. All of this was beginning to suffocate him. The darkness of the room began to encroach on his mind, and he quietly slipped out of the room and down the hall to the stairwell, making his way down and outside into the rain.

The streets were still empty, as the night rolled by, and the freezing rain splashed against his skin. But Adrian didn't feel it; he ran out into the deluge and tilted his head to the sky. The dying earth seemed to cry out in anguish as thunder struck nearby, the lightening illuminated the dingy exterior of the buildings.

Where had the time gone? It wasn't a cliché to Adrian, it was a real question. Where had _he_ been? _Who _had he been? He wished the monsters from his dreams would simply take him away. Dropping to his knees on the sidewalk, his clothes soaking through. Adrian brought his hands up to his face and the lightening flashed once more, illuminated them. But they weren't covering in water, but in blood. Adrian cried out, wailing with the thunder. The dust from his dreams clogged his dry throat while the rain froze his skin. Salty tears rolled down his cheeks while his covered his eyes in his blood-soaked hands.

It was all too much.

"Who am I?!" He screamed over his sobs, hiccupping awkwardly through his question. "Who the fuck am I? Huh?!" His voice lowered, taking on a dejected tone. "Why can't I remember…"

A hand, warm and soothing, clutched his shoulder. Adrian, still sobbing, didn't look up, he was too embarrassed. The hand gripped his shoulder, shaking him.

"Adrian… Adrian, please. Come inside." Katya's voice, still angelic after all that had happened. Shephard shrugged her hand off, he didn't want her to see him like this. The hand snapped back, as if attacked, but then it followed up with a harsher grip. "Get ahold of yourself! You'll catch pneumonia if you stay out here!" Adrian finally turned to see Katya, shivering under a small poncho. Her hair was matted with the rain, but her smile still hadn't faded. "Come on…" Shephard, still hiccupping, nodded and stood up, embarrassed that he had lost his composure like that.

X X X

"There, those wet clothes were going to be the death of you." Katya said cheerfully as Adrian sat down on the cot next to Katya in the empty room, a small stove bubbling with boiled water nearby. Shephard said nothing, still shivering from the cold. Every so often he would hiccup, and turn red, still ashamed she had caught him crying. Katya rubbed his back, though, assuaging his embarrassment. "Hey, it's okay to let go sometimes." Her eyes focused far off, as if looking past the walls of the room. "No one does that anymore, everyone just holds it in. They hold all the bad stuff in until it grows so big, it nearly kills them."

"Yeah." Shephard said, sucking in air. "I guess I just needed to let it out. I feel a little better now." Katya looked at him and smiled.

"Good." She poured him a cup of the boiling water. "Too bad they don't have tea, but this'll have to do. Let it cool first though." She passed him a mug, and Adrian let the steam waft over his face. "I saw you listening to father and Pyotr." She blurted out. Shephard looked up from his drink, his cheeks reddening again.

"Oh… yeah, I was just… looking for the bathroom." He played it off, but Katya saw right through it.

"It's okay, I was eavesdropping too. In the room right next door to them." Shephard nodded.

"So you heard…?"

"I heard very little. Something about a letter Eli gave father, apparently it scared the hell out of him." Adrian agreed, it didn't sound good if Sasha was even entertaining the possibility of working with Eli.

"But you heard the part about that Kleiner guy, right?" Katya nodded, she understood what Adrian really wanted to know.

"He's the only one with access to records and databases from before the war. If you've got any kind of a record, he should have information on it. But he lives in one of the cities, he's got a secret lab, and dad's only been there once. He said he hated every second he was there." Adrian frowned. "But that doesn't mean he won't still do it. You heard him…" She trailed off nervously. "He feels indebted to you."

Adrian allowed himself a bit of hope. "Yeah… I just…"

"You want to know who you are, I know." She took his hand. "But in the meantime, I can tell you a bit about yourself that maybe you don't know." She smiled slyly. "Yuri taught me this once when I was a kid." She turned his palm over, exposing the crisscross patterns on his skin. She traced one. "This is your… I think this is your money-line, it's pretty short, so I'm guessing you're usually broke." She giggled.

Shephard allowed himself a small chuckle, he was actually enjoying himself for the first time since he got here.

She traced another line. "This is your life line. It's pretty long, so I'm guessing you've got pretty good luck when it comes to staying alive."

"We might have to thank that line for our escape." Katya smiled.

"Maybe." She found another one. "And this would be your love line. It's not that long. Troubled relationships?" Her eyebrow tilted upwards comically.

Adrian turned red. "Hell I don't know if I've even ever had a girlfriend." Katya laughed, but didn't let go of his hand. They sat like that for a few moments, just looking into each other's eyes. He could feel her look right through him. Was she letting him in? She seemed like the type to keep it all in, like the type that never let their guard down. But her soft hand was so inviting, and Adrian's heart wouldn't stop racing.

But apparently it didn't race fast enough, because soon that hand slipped away and Katya looked around, slightly embarrassed. Dusting herself off, she stood up and awkwardly walked out of the room. She stopped at the doorway, and turned slightly to Adrian.

"Sleep well… okay?" Her auburn eyes glistened in the moonlight.

Her footsteps echoed down the hallway, and Adrian could only sit in numb silence, rubbing the warm spot her had had once occupied.


	21. Unlocking Potential

A/N: Hello there, all of you! Hope you've been enjoying the story! I just wanted to thank you all for the reviews you've given me. I also wanted to comment on a few things that reviews have asked, and I'm sure most people are wondering about.

"Why didn't Eli recognize Shephard?" Easy- in keeping with canon, Shephard never saw Eli, nor had any kind of interaction with him. Woot! One down.

"When's the PCV making a return?" It starts in this chapter and is pretty much the catalyst for all the action that follows!

"Damn, man, this story is moving way too slow!" Oh yes, I can _definitely_ understand that! But I also want to say that I'm a firm believer in the idea that you need to know all the characters intimately. I see too many fics with throwaway characters who are just placeholders for the different stereotypical heroes, anti-heroes, villains, sidekicks, etc. I want the characters I portray to have a connection with the reader before I let anything happen to them!

I really hope this assuages a lot of fears! But feel free to yell at me some more! I always want to know how to make the story better!

Now on with the show!

_Oh, life is bigger  
It's bigger than you  
And you are not me  
The lengths that I will go to  
The distance in your eyes  
Oh no, I've said too much  
I set it up_

Every whisper  
Of every waking hour I'm  
Choosing my confessions  
Trying to keep an eye on you  
Like a hurt lost and blinded fool, fool  
Oh no, I've said too much  
I set it up

Losing My Religion – R.E.M.

Shephard's Story

-Unlocking Potential-

The silence of the muggy hut was shattered as Adrian's trigger finger, nervously twitching, jerked and let loose a steam of hot, supersonic lead. The bullets impacted in the hardened mud behind the petrified group of children and their mother. Shephard quickly regained control, and safetied his rifle. But his comrade, Weinman, wasn't as cool headed. Shephard's misfire had been misinterpreted, and Weinman opened fire.

The blood sprayed across the back wall, and the mother screamed out, before teetering over and sliding down against the clay bricks. The children were hysterical and Adrian knocked Weinman's rifle out of its line of sight and shoved him against the wall.

"What the _fuck _was that?" Weinman's eyes were as big as twin moons, and he struggled to reply, but the butt of Shephard's M4 against his neck obstructed him. "She was a goddamn civilian!" Weinman pushed Shephard back and raised his rifle, not at the children, but at Adrian.

"Step off Shephard! I had to bag me a raghead! Everyone else got one!" Shephard, undeterred by the rifle in his face, stepped forward till the barrel was wedged against his chest.

"You will lower your weapon right now, or so help me fucking god I will make sure you leave this village in a body bag!" Shephard's vision was blurring with rage, he was ready to take a bullet for the children still screaming in the corner.

Weinman, though, couldn't stand the high-pitched wails. "Shutup!" He yelled, but they continued regardless. Rifle still pushed against Adrian's chest he looked over and repeated his order, louder. When they didn't listen, he swiftly spun around and aimed at the front child. "I said shut the fuck-!"

But Adrian had anticipated Weinman's move and brought his elbow down on the barrel of the rifle, lowering its angle. Weinman pulled the trigger and bullets poured into the floor, kicking up dust and shattering Shephard's ear drums with excruciating explosions.

Stunned, Weinman tried to recover, but Shephard brought his leg down in a sweeping motion, kicking in his knees, and dropping him to the floor. Tumbling over, Adrian brought the full weight of his boot to the young soldier's neck, blocking off his air supply, and training his berretta on the man's forehead.

"No, don't! Please!" Weinman croaked. Shephard shoved the pistol hard into his forehead.

"You've already given me a reason." And he pulled back the hammer, causing Weinman's eyes to widen even more, and his struggling to become more frantic.

There was a large explosion outside, showering the open door way with clumps of dirt, and causing the ringing in Adrian's ears to climb to new heights of pain.

X X X

The ringing didn't stop when Adrian woke up. He found himself in his quarters at the base, but it took him a moment to remember where he was. Nothing seemed permanent anymore. He always had the dreams when he slept. Sometimes they were new, sometimes it was just more of the same, but it was always nerve racking. He would have to talk to Yuri and see if he had anything for the dreams.

Rummaging through his dresser, he searched for a pair of pants and another sweater, his old ones torn to shreds after the experience in Ravenholm. He through several pairs of shorts aside before coming across the set of urban camouflage fatigues. He pulled them out, and pondered throwing them on. But decided against it. They were part of a life he wasn't living anymore; he should let them die along with his past. He unceremoniously stuffed them back in the dresser.

Dressed, Adrian slipped out of his small quarters just in time to run into Stanley, on his way down the hall.

"Oh hey Adrian, I was just looking for you. Yuri wants to see you down in the infirmary, everyone's getting their vitals checked." Shephard nodded and headed the opposite way, downstairs. It made sense that as soon as they returned, everyone should be checked for infections, Ravenholm wasn't know for its efficient sanitation department.

"You wanted to see me?" He said pushing open the large metal door to the makeshift sick bay. Yuri was busy looking under a microscope, but waved him in. He took the sample tray off, which glowed an unearthly green, and slipped it into a small machine, which hummed obnoxiously. "More of that stuff Mossman gave you?"

"Da." Yuri said, checking several of the switches on the side of the container. "I'm checking its chemical composition. But it'll take a few moments. So in the meantime I can give you a quick once-over." He said, pulling on a pair of white gloves. "Now, turn your head and cough, no?" Adrian allowed himself a slight smile.

"No way, doc." Yuri chuckled and gestured for Adrian to take off his shirt.

"Take a seat on the table." He said motioning to the same cold examination table Adrian had originally woken up so long ago. "Just like old times? Though you were pretty heavily sedated when I had you here last." Adrian didn't respond, but hopped on top of the cold cushion. Yuri came up behind him and perused his skin, checking to make sure none of the scratches were new, or promising infection. "Anything take a jab at you back in Ravenholm, comrade?"

"No, not that I remember. Though I spent a lot of time in the sewers." He nearly shuddered at the memory of the Zombie that had attacked him from underneath the waters surface, and those fast zombies that seemed to hug the curved walls of the system. Suddenly there was a small prick on the underside of his arm and Shephard jumped. "Hey!"

Yuri chuckled and told him to hold still. "I'm just getting a small sample of your blood. I need to check for infections. Septicemia isn't such a nice way to go." Yuri got the sample he needed and pulled out a small piece of cotton and anti-coagulant to close up the small prick. He stopped, though, in the middle of it, and raised Adrian's arm, scrutinizing it carefully.

"What?" Adrian asked. Yuri didn't answer immediately, but checked the other arm as well.

Finally, he spoke up. "Where did you get these bruises?" He held up Shephard's arm and let him see the faint bruises, which almost entirely covered his arm. Adrian was astonished that he had never noticed. They had at least hurt.

"I…I don't know. In Ravenholm I guess?" Yuri didn't say anything, but grabbed a small digital camera. He took several shots from several different angles before setting it down. "What's the matter Yuri?"

Yuri set the camera down on the counter opposite Shephard and didn't turn to face him. "Nothing. You're fine." The small machine in the corner, which had been examining the green anti-septic, chimed approvingly. "Now, I really need to get back to my work. You're fine to go." Yuri still wouldn't face Adrian.

"But I needed to ask you something… My dreams, they're…"

"Adrian." Yuri said turning now to face him. "I really need to work on this, can we talk about it later?"

Shephard nodded, and without saying goodbye, left Yuri to his work.

"So? What's the prognosis? You gonna live?" Katya said cheerfully as Adrian exited the infirmary. Shephard made a face at her and followed he up the stairs and towards the mess hall.

"Yeah I'm fine, but Yuri's acting a little weird. And did you notice these bruises before?" He said pulling back the sleeves on his sweater, revealing them. Katya glanced over them but didn't take the kind of notice Yuri had.

"So what? You exerted yourself pretty good back there, I'm surprised we're even alive at all." She smirked. "But come on, let's get some food and help the others unload the van."

X X X

"I can't believe it!" Aaron said throwing his freeze-dried meal across the room. Stanley stood in petrified silence, his hand hanging in the air where he had held the meal.

"Uh… your welcome?" He stifled out. Aaron just glared at him.

"I risk my life out there and all we recover is this freeze-dried crap? There ain't no justice in the world." Stanley turned away, and grabbed his own meal, with which he was happy.

"Fine, more spagetti and meatballs for me." He quipped. Aaron huffed and stalked into the back, throwing open one of the large refrigerators. Stanley noticed and called back to him. "The general said we gotta ration the fruit, mate!"

"Ration this!" Stanley ducked and dodged a flying metal pan, which clattered against the wall behind him.

"Stan!" Slick called out. "Just ignore him, he hasn't 'ad his nap yet." Aaron ignored them, though, as he marched out of the room, apple held between his teeth, and a loaf of bread in his grip.

"Selfish bastard." Adrian muttered under his breath. He sat next to Katya, in a group and consisted of everyone but the general and Yuri. Aaron stopped mid-stride and spat the apple into his hands.

"You want to say somethin' to me, freak?" He bellowed menacingly. He dropped his food on the table next to him and approached Shephard, who stood up from his seat.

"Aaron! That's enough!" Katya yelled, but he didn't listen to her this time. Ivan, Stanley and Slick sat in silence, watching the event unfold.

"You should be lucky we even have food." Adrian growled, and motioned to the bread and apple. "You shouldn't take things that don't belong _solely_ to you." In a flash Aaron had his hand around Adrian's neck, lifting him up and onto his toes.

"You're one to talk. You drop in on us and expect to be fed, clothed, and washed like some goddamn princess! If anyone here is takin' what don't belong to them, it's you!" His eyes narrowed, his face a sick color of crimson.

Katya stood up. "Aaron _let go of him now!_"

"You stay outta this, darlin'. This aint your…" But mid-sentence Adrian, fueled by his rising adrenaline, combined with that out of body feeling he got whenever he felt like his life was in jeopardy, brought his hands up and brought them down hard on Aaron's arm, breaking his grip. The man howled in anger, but before he could counter, Adrian kicked his knees out, bringing him to the floor. It all felt so familiar to him, as he brought his boot to the man's neck, causing the red in Aaron's face to turn a darker shade, a mixture of embarrassment and lack of oxygen.

Shephard felt hands on him, and he was pulled away from Aaron's writhing form, who stood up coughing.

"Enough!" He heard Ivan yell. The haze finally lifted, and Adrian finally realized he was nearly hyperventilating, he was breathing so fast.

"Aaron! Take your goddamn food and get the hell out of here. You collect your shit before you think of coming back inside." Stanley yelled. Aaron, stilled trying to catch his breath, spat at Shephard's feet and turned to walk out. Grabbing his food on his way out, he slammed the door behind him, leaving the other six standing awkwardly at the table, Adrian still catching his breath.

"Remind me not to piss you off." Slick said, breaking the silence, which was met with a chuckle and a snort from Stanley. Adrian brushed himself off, smiling with embarrassment. "Where the hell did you learn to move like that? It was so goddamn fast! I only seen Ivan here do something like that!" She said motioning to Ivan, who sat down and began eating his meal, his gaze fixed on Shephard.

"Yeah, I mean wow Adrian!" Katya said, her amazement apparent. "Aaron really needed that, I think. Teach him to stop acting out." She sat down and returned to her food, as did everyone else.

"_General. I need to see you in the infirmary. General, please come to the infirmary_." Yuri's voice said over the bases PA-system. Adrian looked up from his lasagna and over to Katya, raising an questioning eyebrow, she just returned her own.

X X X

"I thought it was infection. I mean you aren't supposed to have waist like that floating around in your blood stream!" Yuri said frantically, ripping readouts from a printer and laying them down on the examination table. "I mean septicemia would set in, then shock. But this stuff had been in his blood stream for sometime, so it couldn't be an infection." The general covered the paper with his hands and motioned Yuri to look him in the eyes.

"Yuri, what the hell are you talking about?" Yuri grabbed several photos from the counter and threw them into the light, on top of the blood analysis. Each had the letters ASHPD scribbled below them, indicating who they were of. "So? They look nasty, what's the point?"

Yuri sighed. "These bruises indicate longterm exposure to stressful weight baring conditions!" The general just looked dumbfounded at him. "It means to get these kind of ubiquitous, deep skin abrasions and bruises, Adrian had to be constantly overexerting himself."

"Everyone's had a hard life, Yuri. Most people spend their entire lives overexerting themselves." He dismissed the photos.

"Not like this! This is muscle damage that's been hastily repaired." He then pulled the blood readouts back to the front. "This is where these results come in. I had Stanley get me a copy of the results for nanite distribution in living tissue." He pulled a second set of papers out of his vest and laid them down next to the blood work. "See? They're exactly the same!"

"Meaning…"

"Meaning Adrian had to be constantly overexerting himself using the vest's augmentation ability, and having the nanites repair the damaged tissue. It's the only explanation." He said letting out a defeated sigh and setting the papers down.

"He was definitely using the suit to its fullest capacity before we picked him up then?" Yuri nodded. "Then what accounts for the memory loss?"

"Maybe the suit malfunctioned. Maybe he had mini-stroke caused by the exertion. I don't know!" He looked over the pictures of the bruised limbs, and a story about a man with a troubled past seemed to jump out of them. "Maybe… maybe the nanites just can't repair the damaged mind like they can the muscles."

"When's our next drop for Kleiner?" Yuri made an annoyed face at the question and rubbed his temples.

"Umm… I think the day after tomorrow? I'd have to check the schedule. Why?" Sasha was quiet while he chose his words.

"I'm going to need you to get together some of the old denim uniforms, enough for five people. I'm going to need you on this one." Yuri nodded in compliance.

"So you really want to go back in?" Sasha didn't say anything. "How long has it been since you were in 17?"

Sasha turned to leave. "Not long enough, comrade."

X X X

Stanley swiveled around in his chair. "General, sir!" He said, mock saluting. "How goes it? What brings you down to the ass end of the universe?" Sasha ignored him and threw a manila envelop on the desk in front of the bank of computer monitors. "What are these? My walking papers?"

"You wish. Open it." Stanley opened the flap and dumped several large photographs on the table. "And Stan? We need to keep this between you and me for right now, okay?"

"Sure. You got it general."

Sasha spread the three pictures out on the table. "I need you to do something for me. I need you to tell me if these are, in anyway, faked or artificially produced." Stanley made a face.

"Like what? With Photoshop?" He snapped sarcastically.

"Keep the sarcasm to a minimal soldier." Sasha snapped back equally maliciously. "I just need to know if these are the real deal."

"What are they?"

"That's on a need-to-know basis."

"I can't tell you if it's fake if I don't know what it's supposed to be. It looks like a flying saucer with a bad case of the clap!" Sasha sighed.

"Okay, but this needs to stay a secret." He pulled one picture in front of the others. "It's _supposed_ to be a Combine space station in geosynchronos orbit."

"Yeah, pull the other one, mate." Stanley scoffed.

"I'm not fucking with you. Eli says they still have one or two spy satellites with cameras on 'em. He says the Combine might be planning something." Stanley became more serious and pulled a magnifying glass out one of the drawers.

"Well… I definitely say the picture quality is characteristic of somethin' that's been floating around up there for a good twenty years, maybe more. Lemme give the computer a look at it." Sasha nodded and let Stanley to his work.

X X X

Shephard walked down the lonely hallways that connected the different hubs of the old base. After they had eaten and unloaded with little treasures they'd gleaned from Ravenholm, Ivan told him he wanted to speak with him. When Adrian asked what it concerned, Ivan just shrugged and told him to meet him in the silo hub, room L-5. Adrian followed the corridor as it took him past all of the letters of the alphabet, from Z-9 and finally down to L-5. He paused at the hydraulic door fingering the keycard Katya had given him, he really was part of the team now. But the fact that Ivan had asked him to meet in such an obscure place troubled him.

"_Don't worry, he's always like that. Dark and mysterious."_ Katya assured him. The thought of her laughter made him smile, as he swiped the keycard over the laser-reader.

The door opened into blackness and Adrian wondered if he had the wrong room, when suddenly the blackness lunged out at him. It grabbed him and pulled him inside. Shephard struggled, even managed a half-yelp, before the blackness had him pinned down again. The haze cascaded over his mind and his muscles reacted in a way that, again, was oddly familiar, like the imprint made in a favorite chair.

Shephard leveraged himself between the floor and his attacker and brought a boot up, shoving it away. It landed several feet away, sounding graceful as a cat. Adrian hugged the floor, careful not to make any noise, listening intently for his would-be attacker to make his move.

Like a gust of wind he felt it pass by, and strike a glancing blow, knocking Adrian off his balance. He found his footing again, but too late, as the his attacker laid into him again with several more accurate blows. He caught one of the fists as it made its way for his face and twisted it around, locking it in place, and threw several more punches into the (presumably) man's midsection. He heard the sharp exhale of air, and felt the grip the man had on him slip away, and he felt the form jump back and prepare for another strike.

"Come on, you bastard!" He yelled, though it sounded shriller than he would have wanted. "Is that you Aaron? Couldn't stand to take me with the lights on? Have to have the darkness cover up another ass kicking?"

But his valiant speech was interrupted by the blinding light of the incandescent fixtures above. Adrian shielded his eyes with one hand and got into the defensive position, anticipating another attack. But as his eyes adjusted he saw exactly who it was that had attacked him.

"Ivan?!" He nearly squealed. The man stood several feet away, next to the wall with a light switch on it. They were standing inside of a storage facility that seemed to have been converted into an exercise room. They stood near a soft blue gymnastics matt.

"It seems you know more about the finer arts of combat than you let on, comrade." Adrian just stared in dumb silence as Ivan moved from the wall socket over to a barrel full of white powder. He dipped his hands in the chalky substance and whipped the sweat from them. "But you're impulsive. You don't think, you only feel." He took several steps towards Adrian and readied himself. "Come at me."

"What?" Adrian looked perplexed.

"Hit. Me." Ivan said slower.

"Why…" But before he asked his second question, Ivan pounced on him, his fists moving like a jackhammer. Shephard brought his hands up in defense, but wasn't fast enough, taking several direct blows before breaking the lock Ivan had on him.

"Never hesitate!" Ivan screamed. Shephard's blood began to boil and he brought his leg up lightening fast for a swift kick to Ivan's side. Ivan sidestepped and caught the leg mid-swing, twisting it so hard; Adrian spun and landed on the ground, his breathing labored. Ivan stood over him, like some Greek god standing high above Mt. Olympus. "I knew the second I saw you that you were a fighter. But do you know it?"

Adrian coughed and tried to push himself up, his energy spent. "How… how?"

Ivan offered his hand, and Shephard took it, rising to his feet. "One can tell. You have the reflexes, the speed, the power, but you have no driving force." He pulled a spool of medical tap out of his pocket and began wrapping his hands. "You lost it somewhere along in your journeys." Finished with wrapping his hands, he tossed Shephard the Tape. "You have so much potential just locked up." He threw off his red shirt, and Adrian looked on in awe. His torso, covered from neck to down below the belt, was covered in Tattoos, ranging from the religious, to the practical, to the fantastical. His body was also covered in an incalculable number of scars. Some of them new, some covered up by the tattoos. Yuri took his defensive stand, his hands gesturing Shephard forward. "Let me show you how to uncage the beast."

XXX

EDIT: I also wanted to add that everyone here to should head over to moddb and vote BlackMesa: Source number one mod of the year! I don't know if I'm allowed to advertise this but may the gods strike me down! Because I think these mods are what help fuel the imagination for writers like myself. Also over at HalfLife 2 files you can grab the newest patch for Fakefactory's cinematic mod for Episode one! Check it out, the new graphics and enhanced and redone soundtrack make it much better than the original!

Regards!

-Blind


	22. Missing the Trees

_As I walk along these streets  
I see a man that walks alone  
Distant echo of peoples feet  
He has no place to call his own  
A shot rings out from a roof overhead  
A crackhead asks for change nearby  
An old man lies in an alleyway dead  
A little girl lost just stands there and cries_

_What would you do, if it was you  
Would you take everything  
For granted like you do_

Open Your Eyes – Staind

Shephard's Story

-Missing the Trees-

The blow came hard and fast, but Shephard deftly maneuvered to the side, letting Ivan's form slip by, and slam into the neighboring wall. The thud was accompanied by an approving grunt as the larger man used the wall as a platform from which to launch himself. He came at Shephard, leaving the younger man little time to react. Ivan barreled into him with all the power of a speeding bullet train.

Shephard came up coughing, trying to reclaim the air that had been slammed out of his chest. "God damn! Not so hard!" He cried between labored breaths. Ivan got to his feet and lent Shephard a hand.

"You're still not thinking. You need to anticipate the counter!" Shephard coughed one last time and took the man's outstretched hand, struggling awkwardly to his feet. Ivan reached for a towel to wipe the sweat off and threw Shephard his own. The two of them had been training night and day since they returned, two days before. While everyone had busied themselves with keeping the base in working order, Ivan had taken as much time as he could to help Shephard work on his hand-to-hand combat.

The door at the back of the makeshift gym slid open with a hydraulic hiss and Katya sauntered in. She stopped when she saw the two men, their exposed chests glistening with sweat.

"Whoa!" She said cracking a smile. "Am I interrupting anything?" Ivan didn't find her humor amusing, and turned to clean himself up. Shephard just smiled awkwardly back, as he pulled on a worn black t-shirt. Ivan turned to walk out of the room, and nodded to Shephard, silently confirming that they would continue sometime later that evening. Katya walked across the room and threw Adrian a small bundle she had been carrying.

Shephard caught it and unfolded the package, finding a cracked leather jacket. He looked up, puzzled. Katya sighed comically and took his hand, leading him out of the room. "I thought you could use a break. You've spent so much time down here, I was beginning to think you didn't like me…us, us anymore!" She didn't turn to look, but her cheeks had grown quite red.

"So what's the deal? Where are we going, and what do I need this for?" He said, hoisting the jacket.

"You'll see!"

X X X

"Well… what is it?" Adrian asked. It looked like an old sport bike with the wheels chopped off and fitted with a JATO unit.

"It's a scout bike! Slick and Stanley modified it with some of the Combine's propulsion techniques. She glides like a dream… at least I think she does." She said biting her lip.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Adrian cried, a fake expression of horror on his face. Katya laughed and donned her own jacket.

"Well, they haven't exactly tested it yet." She motioned for Adrian to put his jacket on as well.

"And why not?" Katya jumped onto the bike and grabbed ahold of the handlebars.

"Well… see they aren't quite sure if the new engine is going to work. It might be the next thing in transportation… or it might blow up and kill us." She said inserting the key into the ignition.

This time the expression of horror wasn't fake. "What?! It might blow up? What on Earth is compelling you to ride it then?" He said taking an instinctive step back from the ticking time bomb. Katya just sighed and patted the seat behind her.

"Live a little! We'll never know until we test-drive it. Come on, Adrian." She said pouting her lips and patting the seat again. "I promise it wont bite."

Adrian relented and climbed on behind her. "Yeah, but it'll blow the shit out of us."

"Katya…" Stanley's voice came from behind them. Katya turned and found the small, bookish man carrying several clipboards of information, his head peeking out from behind them. "Are you…" Katya winked at Adrian and revved the engine. The room was suddenly filled with the roam of explosions as the antimatter particales within the thrusters were exposed to the air outside, and threw out small, but powerful explosions. The bike suddenly levitated in mid air, and rocked back and forth, steadying itself, until the explosions finally quieted down and the characteristic blue light flooded the workshop floor. "…god, Jesus, and all the saints you crazy Russkie!" Stanley's voice finally was able to call over the now placid rush of air that lifted them off of the ground.

"See ya soon Stan!" She cried, and pulled back on the throttle. The bike lunged forward, Adrian nearly falling off the back. They zoomed out of the workshop and up the ramp that would lead them above ground. Shephard found himself grabbing onto Katya's mid-section as they careened down the long subterranean corridor.

He had finally situated himself comfortably, when he realized they were approaching the blast door to the surface rather quickly.

"Katya…" He cried into her ear. The door rushed closer. "Katya!" Adrian began to brace himself for the inevitable impact, his eyes closed tightly shut. But the impact never came, and soon Adrian felt the cool morning air rush over him, and he slowly opened his eyes.

The ground rushed past them at blinding speed, seemingly blending together in a pallet of greens, grays and blues, as they made their way away from the safety of the underground complex, and into the light of day. Katya looked over her shoulder, and winked through a pair of goggles. She leaned lower, and revved the engine pushing them forward.

It was different to be outside, here in the wilderness in the daytime. It looked… grayer, more desolate that it should have. Was it a product of the same wrath that had been inflicted on the rest of humanity? Was Mother Nature suffering as well? Adrian didn't have a chance to ponder the question further as he caught a shape moving along with them out of the corner of his eye. Adrian turned slightly and tried to discern the shape moving at a gallop next to them.

He nearly fell off the bike as he realized it wasn't any kind of native of Planet Earth. The three-legged monster, the size of large dog, moved deftly despite its odd numbered appendages. It's face was a kaleidoscope of dark colored eyes, giving it an almost arachnid like appearance. But was more horrifying than the monster galloping next to them, was the dozen more that were catching up to them. Their backs colored a mottled green, they all strained to keep up with the bike that was quickly flying across the forest floor.

Adrian squeezed Katya's side harshly, maybe a little too harshly, and she turned back to frown at him. But when she did Adrian could see her eyes widen as she saw the herd of beasts following them. But instead of fear registering, he only saw a mild delight, as she took one hand off of the handlebars to wave at the creatures that were quickly overtaking them.

"What are you doing?" Adrian cried. "Did you bring a weapon?" His fear registering in his high-pitched voice. Katya only waved her hand in a dismissive manner.

"The houndeyes are harmless as long as we keep up this pace. They just want a little race." She smiled, and revved the throttle once more, propelling them forward. They followed a small trail through the tall pines, all seemingly devoid of most of their foliage. Several times they overtook the pack of houndeyes, but their stamina, which amazed Adrian, always won out, and they eventually disappeared into the morning fog that covered the forest floor.

Adrian could finally see the trees begin to thin, as they quickly came to the edge of the forest. Katya maneuvered around much of the fallen trees without losing much sleep, and she finally broke through the forest barrier.

And almost straight over a cliff.

The bike came to a complete halt, nearly throwing the two off. Adrian's heart was fluttering in his chest as he clutched Katya's mid-section tightly.

"It's okay. Adrian." She said giggling, and touching the hands clasped tightly around her. "Sorry about that, I don't remember the drop off being so close to the edge of the forest."

Adrian, slightly embarrassed, let go and slid off of the bike. His boots met the dead leaves with a crunch as he slowly inched his way to the drop-off, peering over. The cliff-face seemed to drop forever, finally meeting with a small river at the bottom. It was so far off, the sheer distance boggled his mind. From here it looked like nothing but a small stream he could reach out and dip his hand into. Luckily he knew better than to not.

Katya came up next to him and whistled, the sound echoing off of the far side. "Jeez, that coulda been quite a fall."

Adrian let the pause settle then turned slightly to her. "Y'think?" Katya only giggled before taking a seat near the cliff's edge. Adrian, done with looking, sat down next to her, sweeping up a handful of leaves, and crunching them within his grasp.

"It wasn't always like this." Katya began, her gaze lingering on the mound of crushed leaves. "I remember when I was really young, before the war, and for a short time after, it was still safe to come outside." She took in a sharp sigh. "And it wasn't… so _dead_. The trees," She said motioning to the forest behind them. "they had all their leaves, and only died when autumn and winter came around, now it seems like a perpetual winter."

"What happened?"

"The portal storms… They dropped all sorts of shit all over the Earth. The creatures were the main problem. Within a few years they'd eaten most of the original animals. Dad says there's still a few packs of lions, alive in the dying Sahara." She chuckled slightly. "He said he heard a report of a group of soldiers who'd gotten attacked by the poor starving beasts, not one of them made it back." He face contorted into a look of disgust. "Though it doesn't sound like such a tasty meal, but" She sighed. "that's life. The Combine have been mining Earth of it's minerals since they got here. Every building, every rock, all thrown into their giants tower-machines, where they churn out more of their bastard cousins." Her face grew cold and stern. "I just… miss the forest, I guess."

Bringing up a gloved hand, she rubbed her eyes free of moisture. "Hey, listen to me. Probably the last tree hugger on Earth, eh?" Adrian just chuckled and took her hand in his.

"Yeah, but it looks like the Earth could use more of you." Katya smiled and squeezed his hand.

"You're sweet, Shephard, you know that?" She smiled and leaned against his shoulder, closing her eyes. "This is comfy… wake me up when the sun goes down." Adrian smiled and rubbed his head against the softness of her hair.

"_Katya? Katya you there? Goddamnit! Answer me!"_ The angry voice of the general interrupted their brief interlude. Shephard grimaced and Katya jumped up and pulled the radio out of the bike.

"Yeah, dad?" There was a pause.

"_Where the hell are you? Is Adrian with you?" _Katya told him they'd only gone to test out the bike. _"Why I… You've really got…" _The General didn't seem like he could quit pick the correct phrase to emphasize all his anger, so he just let it drop. _"I want you back here…yesterday!"_ Katya blurted out something scornful in Russian and clicked the radio off, throwing it back in the saddle of the bike. She looked over to Shephard with a frown.

"Sorry about that." Adrian jumped to his feet and waved his hand.

"No problem." A rustling in the forest behind them, accompanied by the whines of several animals interrupted him. "I think we've overstayed our welcome anyways…"

X X X

The garage was alive with movement as Katya and Adrian parked the bike. Stanley was the first to meet them as they dismounted.

"Well? How does it handle?" Slick was almost instantly by his side, equally enthralled.

"Like you said… its like riding a cloud!" Katya exclaimed excitedly, tossing him the keys.

"Y'didn't touch the red button, though did'ya?" Slick said, going over the bike.

"What red button?" Katya looked puzzled. "Oh, the one by the throttle with the skull and cross-bones on it?"

"Yeah, that one." Slick said, as it that kind of marking was perfectly normal.

Katya just stared at her, letting the silence drag on. "No… the thought never crossed my mind…"

The door to the garage slid open and Sasha, followed by Yuri, walked in. Stanley and Slick immediately dispersed and continued their jobs, loading boxes marked "magazines" into a large transport.

Sasha made his way up to Katya and Shephard, his face red with fury, his tone normal. Without taking his eyes off of Katya, he spoke to Adrian. "Put this on." He said tossed him a pair of blue denim pants and a matching shirt. Adrian looked at them curiously. "Now!" Sasha growled. Adrian nodded and walked away.

"If you've got to be mad at someone, be mad at me!" Katya said defiantly. Sasha took a step forward, his large form overshadowing hers.

"I'll deal with _your_ indiscretions later." His voice was low as he began to calm. "But for now I need you to stay here and man the base with Stanley and Slick, we're going to the city."

Katya's eyes widened. "What? The city? Without me?"

"I've got some business to take care off, and Adrian is involved. I don't want to endanger anyone more than I have to." And with that he turned to Aaron and called him over. "Put this on." He said tossing him a pair of coveralls.

"Bullshit! I ain't going back inside!"

"That wasn't a request." Sasha was sick of Aaron's noncompliance. But Aaron only tossed the coveralls aside.

"Yeah well I don't gotta take orders from you!" That was the last straw. Sasha strode confidently up to Aaron until they were toe-to-toe. Aaron had almost begun to regret his words as Sasha reached for his sidearm.

"General…" Yuri started. Sasha relented, sliding the gun back in its holster.

"You and I." He said pushing his index finger into Aaron's chest. "You and I are going to have a nice long chat when we get back." He turned to Stanley. "Stan, get those coveralls on, you're going." Stanley had been watching, and knew it was in his best interest to put the clothes on. He turned back to Aaron. "If I come back and your eyes aren't glued to those goddamn security cameras so help me…" And he turned to walk out of the room.

He passed through the door just as Adrian was coming back in, dressed in his blue duds. Sasha huffed and shoved by him, pushing Shephard to the side. "What's his problem?" Adrian said walking up to Katya, who only sighed and turned away to help the others load. "What?" He said looking at his drad blue uniform. "I thought the color was flattering!"

X X X

"What?! You mean we're going into one of those Combine controlled cities?" Shephard was terrified, Katya had told him all about the horrors of living in the occupied zones. The constant terror, the metropolice and their brutal tactics, and the huge spires eloquently dubbed "Citadels" that commandeered the skylines. "Isn't that suicide?" Adrian was sitting on one of the supply boxes in the back of the truck, Katya sitting opposite him, a concerned look on her face.

"No… not usually. One of the leaders of the resistance, Dr. Issac Kleiner, has a safe house there. Normally father doesn't even make drops inside the city, always on the outskirts, where they meet one of the doctor's informants. But this time…" She couldn't look up to meet Adrian's worried gaze. "This time he needs to meet the doctor in person. He says it's got something to do with you."

"Me?" Adrian exclaimed, pointing to himself.

Katya just buried her head in her hands. "Just, please, listen to my father. He'll get you in and out. Just come back safe, okay?" She said looking up, her eyes reddened with the promise of tears.

X X X

The door squealed open into the computer room, and Sasha, dressed in the ubiquitous denim of the city dwellers, walked in. Across from him sat Stanley, dressed as well in blue, a small headset with a magnifying glass hanging over his head, enlarging the images on the table.

"So?" Sasha said curtly. Stanley looked up without moving aside the large magnifying monocle, his left eye blown up to humorous proportions.

"So what?" He finally noticed the glass and flicked it aside. "You've given me, what, a day to look at it? Even if I had the right equipment, and even if I had enough time, I might not even be able to tell you within a reasonable doubt."

Sasha stood silently through all this, not saying a word.

Stanley, seeing the general wouldn't take no for an answer, sighed dramatically. "Well, with the limited time you've given me, and the absolutely inadequate equipment with which to analyze the rather," He held up the blurry pictures. "crude subject material, I can say I think… it's authentic."

Sasha just grimaced, and turned to walk out, leaving Stanley flustered. "What? What? Isn't that the answer you wanted?"

"Just get down to the transport bay, we're leaving. Bring the pictures with you."

Stanley slumped over the table, the monocle falling comically over his eye. "Yeah, sure thing, General."


	23. The Occupied Zones

_Your dead meat from former days  
I am your crisis  
Blue asbestos in your veins  
I'm your broken fingers  
I've killed you twice  
I will again  
Revenge is eager  
See first you'll crash  
Then you'll burn_

_Dorothy died for your pleasure  
It's hard to get along in this car crash weather  
Your dead meat  
Your dead meat  
Your dead meat_

Dead Meat – Bush

**Author's Note: I just want to apologize for this appallingly short chapter, but I wanted to prove this fic isn't dead! I am currently in the middle of moving to another country, so updates have been few - actually pretty much none. I love this story, though, like a fat kid loves cake, but there just hasn't been any time to advance it lately. But in a week I should be all moved in. I had a little free time (For once!) and wanted to give a little gift to all of you who still are interested.**

Shephard's Story

-The Occupied Zones-

Adrian itched in the scratchy, almost burlap material of the blue denim uniform. Sitting in the back of the truck, he and Stanley could only watch the landscape pass behind them. The ride was long, and most of all, silent. Stanley didn't even try to put on the façade that he was sleeping, he merely sat across from Adrian, arms crossed, eyes buried in the deck of the truck.

He had remembered what Katya told him about the cities, and his skin began to crawl. People may have been told it was safer, but it sounded like they had traded the monsters of the wastelands for the monsters hiding under black uniforms and Civil Protection badges.

Adrian watched Stanley, a small manila folder sitting on the crate next to him. Every once in awhile the man would sigh, and his gaze would wander over to the folder, looking as though he wanted to open it and view its contents.

"What's in it?" Adrian asked. Stanley didn't say anything for a while.

Instead of answering Shephard, Stanley changed the subject. "I hate going to the occupied zones. They smell worse than the country." He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "I lived in them most of my life. I was born under the Combine, right before they established the anti-procreation laws and installed the dispersed field inhibitors." Adrian looked puzzled at the strange string of words. Stanley smiled a bit. "It restricted certain enzymes that were crucial for conception, no babies. Anyways, I lived in what used to be Chicago. For a while the Combine kept everyone in the cities they were found in, there wasn't the musical chair game we see today. There wasn't any school, I hear that kids before the war used to go to school all day, and hated it." He chuckled like it was some kind of black humor. "My father told me that, I thought he was crazy. I was drafted early into a vocational program. The Combine taught me how to repair anything from old human junk, to a lot of their extraterrestrial equipment."

"That was your job?"

Stanley pulled out a small pack of gum. "Civil Electrical Maintenance Alpha Five. One helluva title, I know. They finally started mixing the populations, moving people from city to another. Keep the slaves on their toes, y'know. Gotta keep them thinking nothing is permanent. One day you've got yourself a nice, albeit rundown, apartment, maybe a few people who know your name, who you might, maybe consider friends, and next you're on a train to the nearest zone, only a suitcase of possessions to take with you. I did that shit till I was nineteen, when I finally met a guy in city 15 who could set me up with the right people."

Adrian knew who those people were. "The Resistance, right?" Stanley nodded, pulled out a stick of gum, and offered one to Adrian. Shephard took the small stick and unwrapped it like it was a gift from on high. Stanley took his stick and slid it slowly into his mouth, savoring the rare confection.

"God that's the stuff. This beats a cigarette any day." He smiled over to Adrian, who had already begun frantically chewing his own piece. "Anyways, so the resistance wasn't much then, mostly just ferried people out of the cities and into the country. I was set up in a safe house outside of 15 for a couple of months, until I met the general." Adrian stopped chewing for a moment, letting Stanley finish in silence. "He was making a drop, but someone must have alerted Civil Protection, because moments before he met us at the safe house, they rounded up most everyone, and forced the Resistance rep to go on as planned. I, though, had been hiding in the cellar, so I was lucky enough to escape. As the general was coming up on the cabin, I was able to flag him down and tell him what had happened. He told me to get in the truck, and here I am!" He cracked a wry smile.

Adrian smiled and nodded, unsure of how to respond. He couldn't remember his own life experiences, how was he going to be able to relate? He chafed under the scratchy blue denim, so he hoped that maybe he hadn't warn it all his life.

"So what's with the blue leotards?" He quipped.

Stanley shook his head and smiled. "Their the only Combine approved apparel. Everyone wears them, regardless of what position they hold." He sneered slightly. "Gotta love communism."

"So why are we wearing them if we're just dumping the stuff then leaving?" Stanley had told him earlier that the drops were made without any real contact. They were scheduled months in advance. The general and his team would make the drop, then whoever was working for the Resistance would come by days, weeks, later and retrieve the goods.

Stanley's eyes once again landed on the faded manila folder. "I don't know. The General was pretty tight-lipped about it."

The van jerked violently as they left the highway and merged onto an old dirt road. Stanley stared out the back of the truck momentarily before announcing. "We're almost there."

"Where is 'there'?"

Stanley got up and walked to the front and slid open a small window into the driver portion of the truck, which housed Yuri, Ivan, and the General. "It's a drop-off concealed in an old scrap yard outside of town." He said before he addressed the three men up front. "Same plan as always, General?" Adrian couldn't see Sasha, but assumed he had nodded, and Stanley sat back down.

Finally, the van began to slow, and Adrian was greeted by the sight of mounds upon mounds of debris. Cars, kitchen appliances, even parts of buildings, littered the small gully. The trip through it all was like a procession of mourners through a graveyard, only the funeral being mourned was that of Humanity's.

As the van rolled to a stop, Stanley grabbed the folder and tucked it inside his coverall. Signaling to Adrian to stay quiet, he hopped out of the back of the van and into the mud that caked the still wet soil. Adrian heard the doors of the van shut before he saw the rest of the team. He followed Stanley to where the General and the other two were standing in a close circle, all speaking in whispers.

As they entered the tight circle, Adrian saw the General holding two nine-millimeter pistols. One of he tucked behind himself in his waistband, the other he handed to Ivan, who did the same. Shephard immediately noticed Stanley become uneasy.

"General, sir." He began. "What are those for?" Sasha looked him in the eyes, but didn't respond.

Turning to Yuri, he motioned to the truck. "Just get it unloaded." He whispered.

"Sasha…General, sir." Adrian began. "What's going on?" Sasha took him by the arm and led him around to the otherside of the van.

"Just shut up and do as I say for now. Once we're back out I'll explain."

"But… but back out of _where?_"

The relative quiet was shattered by the rumbling of a large vehicle making it's way around the bend they were parked neared. A large tank-like transport skidded to a stop in the mud. It's gray platted armor reflected nothing but cold. Adrian could hear Stanley behind him swear and yell to the others, who were relatively calm.

"Fuck! Civil Protection!" Stanley yelled over and over again.

Shephard moved to take cover, but Sasha held him in place. "Just stay calm."

The machine powered down, and was silent for a few seconds, before clamoring from within could be heard. The back of the vehicle opened and out climbed what Katya described to Adrian as a Civil Protection officer. He held his pistol at the ready and stood near his well-armored transport for protection, if necessary. Shephard could feel the general reach behind him, and tuck his hand underneath his denim top, getting a grasp on the grip of the pistol.

In a warbly, distorted voice, which sounded like coins in a grinder, the officer finally acknowledged them. "You, citizens, state your business here!" He said, his pistol held out in front of him menacingly. He felt Sasha tense next to him.

"We are here picking flowers." He could hear Ivan respond. Was he trying to be smart? He could get them all killed. "Lovely day for it, isn't it?" He added, as if to round out the smart-ass retort.

But instead of growing angry, the officer seemed to relax slightly despite his expression being hidden behind that hard, plastic riot mask. Slowly he holstered his pistol and marched the distance between them. Sauntering up to Sasha and Shephard, he reached behind his helmet and unlocked it.

Adrian expected to see the face of a monster, but instead was greeted by the sight of a slightly middle-aged, mild mannered looking man. With salt and pepper sideburns and a five o'clock shadow, the man looked nothing like the anger-management deprived individuals Katya had warned him of.

Extending one black-gloved hand, he took Sasha's and shook it. "The name's Calhoun, but you can call me Barney. I'll be your lift into City 17."

Barney. Shephard paused for a moment, where had he heard _that_ name before?


	24. Abadon All Hope

_Instrumental _

F.B.I – Smokin' Aces Soundtrack

Shephard's Story

-Abandon All Hope-

"That was a real bullshit move… sir." Stanley grumbled, seated in the back of the APC. The five men were all jostling together as the transport traversed the old roads that that lead into City 17. Their new companion, apparently a double agent, Barney, worked the controls of the vehicle, which were similar to that of Earth based automobiles. They could see him from behind a thin wire mesh that separated the front cabin from the rest of the vehicle.

Upon first entering the small holding cell in back, Adrian was tempted to see just how strong the frail looking wire actually was. Reaching out, his hand was quickly slapped away by Stanley, who muttered that he'd get a nice shock if he went any further.

"Had experience with it before, eh?" Shephard chided.

Stanley wasn't so jovial, though, and muttered to himself. "Seen my fair share, ya."

Barney hoped in the front and looked back at his new cargo. "Well boys, looks like the doc was real intent on seein' ya. I don't think I need to tell you how risky this is, so keep the chatter to a minimum once we're inside."

Five solemn faces nodded in agreement. Barney chuckled slightly and mimicked their mournful looks. "Now everyone put on their citizen faces."

"What a fuckin' yahoo." He heard Stanley scowl.

X X X

The general nervously leaned in and beckoned everyone to make a circle as the truck neared the heavily guarded entrance to City 17. "Alright, I realize this isn't standard procedure…"

"Is anything, anymore?" Stanley quipped, but the general continued on.

"But trust me when I tell you I wouldn't be doing this if it wasn't worth it." He looked to Shephard. "Now most of us know how the citizen drill goes, but just to reiterate; keep your head down, no groups larger than three, and for the love of god," He sighed, and looked at Stanley. "No talking."

Stanley suddenly became very defensive. "Hey! I was _born_ in the freakin' zones!"

"All the same…" The general then switched gears. "We're meeting one of their Resistance eggheads, he needs something hand delivered, and in exchange they've promised to completely restock our medical supplies."

"Finally." Yuri began. "The catch." Sasha smiled.

"This doctor Kleiner is also one of the few people left with a non-combine controlled, complete human database. Encyclopedias, history texts, sports stats, as well as military and police records." His gaze settled on Shephard. His brow immediately furrowed at the thought of finally discovering who he was, and his smile reflected that.

Stanley's ears perked up and his tone lowered. "He agreed to let you see it?" Sasha smiled slightly.

"Not quite. Like most of the Resistance, he's rather paranoid about any information, no matter how meaningless, falling to the Combine." Stanley immediately understood, and Sasha reached into his back pocket, and pulled out a small, compact device, the shape and thickness of an old-style credit card, colored jet black with three silver stripes crossing it's front. Stanley made a quick grab for it.

"You want us to _steal_ the information?" He said tucking the small device in his front pocket.

"Not steal…" The general began. "Wait… yeah, we're going to steal it."

"Yeah let's not mince words." Adrian interjected, with a newfound sense of belonging, seeing how these people seemed to care about him. "It's what we do." He was greeted with several wry smiles.

Barney cut the conversation off, though, as the truck began to slow. "Alright boys, show time." He donned his riot mask, his voice suddenly shifting back to distorted, nails-on-chalkboard. "Put on a frown for the scanners!" His enthusiasm sounded strange, when spoken through the mask's filter.

The APC rolled to a stop, and the five men could hear the large metallic gates, similar to the ones that guarded Ravenholm, slowly open. Several footsteps could be heard circling the vehicle.

The driver's cabin was flung open and Barney stepped out. Through the wire mesh, Shephard could see him hand a small, cigarette sized capsule to another Civil Protection officer, who slid it into the back of his helmet.

"Were any weapons or intel gathered?" The harsh, grating voice inquired.

"Uh, that's a negative. Anti-citizens were enroute to the coast, possibly a rendezvous with hostile forces." The other officer nodded and looked behind Barney and into the truck. Barney stepped to his right, slightly, to block the other's view. "Overwatch wants them ASAP, for questioning."

The other officer stood his ground for several seconds before detaching the information storage unit from his helmet and handing it back to Barney.

"Entry approved. Suggest I notify Overwatch Nexus of your arrival?" Barney's masked face shook itself in disagreement.

"Negative, already been in contact with them." There was a long pause, and Adrian wondered if the guard was buying it. Finally Barney turned and looked back at the five men. "Query suggests anti-citizens are to be interrogated under strict supervision. Transportation to Nova Prospekt."

The officer finally turned away and waved his hands towards the gate. Barney seemed to relax and began to climb back into the transport.

"Unlucky bastards." He could hear the Metrocop mutter as the door slammed shut and the APC rolled through the gate.

Shephard looked around questioningly and mouthed the words _Nova Prospekt?_ The other's faces grew dark, Ivan's especially.

"It is said that before the occupation it was a prison. Some of the worst criminals in Eastern Europe made their homes in those dark cells." Yuri whispered. "Once the Combine took over, they turned it into something… much worse."

"One time, when I was transferring to City 15." Stanley joined in, his own voiced muffled. "Overwatch were there to greet us as we got off and separated people into two groups. It was almost completely random who got picked. All the same, the ones who were chosen were shuttled across the platforms to one of the Nova Prospekt Razor trains. They're always full, but no one ever gets off… I…I just remember seeing the faces of those who were chosen. Some cried, others begged. One guy fell to the ground and refused to move. Two CPs beat him to death. Though from what I've heard, the guy made the right decision."

"What the hell goes on there?"

"No one really knows." Yuri confided. "But I've heard everything from 'reeducation' to 'gene-manipulation'. Turning human beings into mindless slaves, easily controlled."

"Sorry to bust up your little meeting," Barney interrupted. "But I'm going to be unloading you soon. Now I can't drop you off at the doc's front door, but I'll drop you off at the tenements four blocks down. I'm sure you know the drill. There's a restriction against large groups, so I suggest you split up."

The group nodded in agreement. Barney turned his attention to Sasha. "You armed?" He only shrugged an ambiguous response. The riot-masked Barney cocked his head in disappointment. "Well just make sure no one finds out. CPs are more than likely to shoot first, and ask questions later." The general nodded, and Barney stepped out of the transport and walked around to the back and opened the doors. "Out!" He screamed, donning his psychopathic Civil Protection persona. He held a short baton; it's end fizzing with electricity, like a cattle prod. "Out!" He ordered again. The five men piled out of the APC and onto the sidewalk.

Yuri was the last one out and, for effect, Shephard guessed; Barney shoved him with his free arm, causing him to fall to his knees. "Return to your respective dormitories for count!" He barked. Yuri turned around and shot him a deadly glared through his thin, wire frame glasses. But Barney's actions were justified when a pair of Metrocops passed by their APC on patrol. Barney held his baton menacingly, and his two fellow officers nodded their approval as they walked by.

"Assistance?" One of them asked.

Barney laughed, which sounded like nails on chalkboard, and responded coldly. "I can take care of them." He then raised his baton slightly higher. "Comply, or do you want to be charged with _another_ non-compliance violation?" Shephard had no idea what that meant, but he helped Yuri to his feet and the two of them took off down the block, following the general, Stanley, and Ivan.

Shephard hadn't had the chance to observe his surroundings. But now that they were making their way through the city streets, he was having an eyeful, and it was definitely more of an eyesore. The buildings had obviously seen at least a decade, if not more, of total disrepair. Where paint hadn't chipped, or walls hadn't caved in from stresses they were never designed to withstand, the blue metal ubiquitous of the Combine oppressors sought to invade the rather quaint city atmosphere like an infection. Whole buildings had been laid to waist, and Shephard wondered if it was more a product of lack of maintenance, or the war that Katya had mentioned.

But what made Adrian stop in his tracks was the sight that loomed over the whole cityscape. It dominated the skyline, devoid of any competition. The spire rose high into the air, it's pinnacle obscured by the clouds above. It was gigantic, bigger than anything Adrian was sure he had ever seen. It's total lack of geometric symmetry boggled his mind, and he questioned how something so large, and so unbalanced, could keep itself upright. He had to lean back to take it all in. Finally he felt someone touch his shoulder.

"Don't just stand there, you'll attract attention." He heard Yuri whisper. Shephard shook his head, and started walking, suddenly self-conscious of everyone around him. Several people they passed shot him strange looks. "The Citadel's are fairly common. It would seem strange for you to look so surprised." Yuri continued. They walked around a small square with several park benches. CPs and citizens milled around, mainly in pairs. A group of six people stood around talking in the middle of the square. Their eyes darted left and right as others passed by, until a pair of CPs came by, batons waving threatening, demanding that they disband.

"How does anyone live?"

"You learn to cope." Several more people passed by them on the sidewalk. A woman, her face gaunt from malnutrition, and a wiry-framed man, his eyes glazed over, and his mouth moving, spewing out nothing but nonsense. "The meal packs the Combine distribute hardly provide the nourishment the body requires. Plus, the chemicals they pump into it help people to forget just how horrible their living conditions are. I had the fortune of never having to experience it."

Shephard tensed as a pair of Metrocops passed them, the two kept their heads down. As the officers passed, the two men relaxed slightly. "You've been with the General the whole time?" Yuri nodded.

"I've known him since before the fall of the wall. He and I, as well as Ivan, served in the Red Army together." He smiled. "I actually was the doctor who delivered Katya." His smiled quickly turned to a frown. "Back when Human beings _could_ have children." As if on dramatic cue, the duo passed a small playground. Rusting merry-go rounds and broken teeter-totters testifying to the utter lack of childish laughter.

"Good god, a world without kids…" Shephard mused. What was Earth's population now? Enough to make a comeback even _if_ the Combine ever let them?

"There are still some pockets of the world not effected by the inhibitor fields. Though life in the Bad Lands is unforgiving, and hardly a place for a generation of children to be brought up in." They passed a building that obviously collapsed due to shelling. Old artillery impact craters littered the ground, leaving only the foundation and several dilapidated walls to prove the building ever even existed. "Old remnants of the Seven Hour War." Yuri mused.

Adrian was about to ask him about that when he saw the others up ahead of them stop at the opening of a large warehouse. By this time Shephard was growing tired of warehouses, and simply would rather have waited outside. Yuri tugged on his sleeve and motioned for him to sit on a bench with him.

"We'll wait for them to go in first, give them a moment, then follow."

The three made their way inside, and moments later Shephard and Yuri did the same. The front door took them through a short hallway where they found a freight elevator. Stanley, Sasha, and Ivan stood inside it, only Stanley seemed to betray his own emotions, his feet tapping frantically, his brow reflecting the dim light from a sheen of sweat. Shephard and Yuri stepped inside, and Sasha pushed the call button without saying a word. The Elevator immediately began its ascent, coming to a loud, grinding stop two floors up.

"Great." Stanley began. "It's a dead end. I knew these Resistance guys were nuts." Sasha ignored him, though, and looked around the room. It was odd, Shephard thought, to have a freight elevator stop on a floor which only seemed to contain a hallway with a small closet at one end, and an old vending machine at the other.

"They said the second floor, didn't they?" Yuri asked.

"_Da_." Sasha replied, nodding as he walked toward the end of the hallway with the closet. Shephard, though, decided to check out the vending machine. It was rusted and smashed up, but deep down, Shephard held out a flicker of hope that the vandals who assaulted it might have let some of the bounty behind. Reaching into the black hole in the front of the machine, he felt it go far beyond what should have been the back, and into what should have been brick wall.

"What the hell?" He asked out loud, attracting the attention of the others. Pulling his hand out, he moved to the side of the machine and tried to push it, but to no avail. It almost seemed cemented in place, strange considering it should have been easy to push aside, given its weight. Stepping back, he brought a booted foot up and whacked the side of the machine, eliciting a long, hollow echo.

"I think I see…" Sasha said, examining the front. But before he could offer his advice, the machine began to jostle, and the whole frame moved to the side on a small track.

"Did someone knock?"

X X X

The old laboratory looked more like a museum dedicated to a lost era. Old computer parts, glass beakers and Bunsen burners lined the tables, while shelves stood laden with an overabundance of science journals. Brittle notepads were strewn this way and that, covered in scientific glyphs that Shephard could not decipher.

Off to his left, Sasha and Ivan were conversing with the man who had let them. Clad in denim jeans and a green top, he must have at one point scavenged the body armor off of a dead Metrocop, since it was identical.

"The Doc' busy right now, but he said he'd be right with you…" He trailed over, his voice suspicious. The Rebels didn't seem to a trusting bunch, his hand never straying far from the pistol holstered at his side. Stanley picked a clipboard sitting next to one of the computers and flipped through its contents, murmuring out loud.

"Calabi-Yau model seems to negate need for boarderworld slingshot method, further study suggested immediately…" The Rebel guard overheard Stanley and turned a harsh eye towards him.

"Leave those things alone! They belong to Dr. Kleiner!" Stanley sighed and dropped the clipboard.

Suddenly at the back of the room, a wall slid open, revealing another room entirely. Shephard could scientific instruments off all different shapes, sizes, and functions. But the sliding door was immediately closed as an older man, presumably Kleiner, and another Rebel guard, brandishing a shotgun, exited.

"Yuri!" The doctor said, holding his hand in a warm welcome to our own doctor. "It really has been too long, hasn't it?" Yuri politely nodded. "I do apologize for the rather unsavory laboratory conditions, but with things the way they are, we must make do!" He said, holding a victorious finger high in the air. The bespectacled professor didn't seem like he was all there to Shephard. He moved from Yuri, to Ivan, shaking his hand. When he came to Shephard he stopped for a moment.

His hand still held tightly by the older man, he scrutinized Adrian's face. "You…" He began, but quickly shook his head. "No, never mind."

"What?" Shephard pressed.

Kleiner sighed, "I just thought I had seen your face before." But before Shephard could open his mouth to respond, Sasha cleared his throat and held up the manila envelope. "Oh right, of course." He took the envelope and shook Sasha's free hand. "Good to see you, general." Sasha only nodded in reply and Kleiner beckoned him to follow. "Please this way, we'll discuss it in private."

The professor led Sash and Yuri back into the room adjacent to them, the shotgun wielding rebel in tow, and the fake wall slid shut. Before it had closed all the way, though, Sasha turned and gave a look to Stanley, who nodded, and patted his breast pocket.

The three of them, along with their own rebel babysitter, now stood quietly in the confines of the Lab. Stanley looked around nervously, his attention focused on the bank of computers near a pair of large tubes filled with a viscous orange substance. Shephard knew he was thinking of a diversion, so that he could use the small keycard that Sasha had given him.

Directly behind where they stood, a large metal door, the kind that slid up and down on a track, seemed to be keeping a secret. He slowly made his way up to the door and leaned against the wall, yawning as if bored. The guard, who had been keeping a close eye on Shephard, turned to watch Stanley and Ivan as they milled around the bookshelf.

As good a time as any. Adrian thought, and moved slightly to his left, so that his shoulder bumped the access panel, causing the door to slide up. The guard attention was immediately fixed on Adrian.

"Oops." He mouthed, and the guard's face contorted into an expression of annoyance and anger.

"Get away from that! That's highly sensitive material!" He said shoving Shephard out of the way and slamming the pad to close the door. But it had jammed and the only response he attained was a whining beep. Adrian stepped out of the way and turned his attention to what the door had been hiding.

Steam billowed around a glass case as servos and hydraulics whooshed and whined, pulling apart the glass partitions that hid something very interesting.

"What the hell is that? Some kind of armor?" Stanley asked, completely forgetting what he should be doing. The suit occupied most of the glass case, and it's polished surface nearly shined in the dim light.

The sight of that suit triggered something in Adrian. Staggering back, he felt for something to grab hold of. It was so familiar, yet he had no clue where he had seen it.

"_It's ready, Freeman, you must go. Now!" _The voices inside his head echoed. Shephard fell to one knee and struggled to regain his footing through the haze of recollected memories.

"What the hell is wrong with him?" The guard asked, his nervousness apparent. Stanley could see his hand slowly reach for his pistol.

Trying to diffuse the situation, he ran to Shephard's side, trying to help him to his feet, while at the same time watching what Ivan was doing. The tall man kept his watch on the guard, his hands clenching in anticipation, his mind on the pistol in the back of his waistband.

Adrian's mind, though, was somewhere else, somewhere far away. He couldn't feel Stanley's hands, helping him up. He could only feel the cold metal of the vents as he saw himself crawl through them. He saw himself make his way through a short corridor, the hum of giant electric machinery obscuring his own thoughts. He saw himself standing in front of a large metal blast door, listening to the words of a frightened scientist over the intercom in the room just inside. One hand was clasped tightly around the handle of a pistol as his free hand flicked the switch that would open the door, and he watched as the suit, now possessed by a man, made its way across the gangway, painted in yellow and black caution stripes, and leaping an impossible distance, disappear from sight.

His head began to hurt as the memory of the suit leaping into the giant ball of light blinded him. Shephard's hands cradled his head as he moaned. The rebel finally had had enough and unholstered his pistol.

"Shut him up!" His anxiety was mounting.

Ivan, though, was perfectly calm, and had his own side arm drawn. "I wouldn't do that." His voice was low. The rebel's brow furrowed and his lips began to quiver as he trained his pistol shakily on Ivan.

"What the hell?" His voice cracked. "Drop it!"

"Not before you calm down." Ivan spoke slowly, but he could already tell the man was too nervous to drop the gun, he was going to fire, and Ivan had to act fast.

But, luckily, he didn't have to. From out of the shadows of the suit's room, a small bundle of sinew and crab legs leapt, screeching into the air. The rebel had just enough time to turn and catch the monster in the face. "Ah!" He screamed. "Goddamnit!" His pistol, now pointed away from the others, went off several times as his free hand struggled to rip the monster from his face.

Stanley turned to Ivan and pointed to the retinal scanner that was sued to open and close the fake wall partition. "Shoot it!"

"But what about the others?" Ivan responded.

"They'll be okay! Just buy us some time!" Ivan nodded and let off two rounds into the retinal scanner. It crackled and fizzled, and the blue light faded. Shortly there after several fists could be heard pounding at the fake wall. Stanley dropped Shephard, who was still moaning incoherently, and ran to the bank of computers.

The rebel was still struggling with the headcrab who, though it had a relatively strong grip on him, had yet to make that final copulation. Ivan stood, staring at it as the man's hands desperately tried to free him from it. He felt some pity for him, but Ivan had seen many people meet the same fate.

Pulling the small device from his pocket, Stanley slapped it onto the side of the largest computer and switched it on. Several lights lit up on the front of the black card. First red, then they finally changed to green, as the computer's fans wound up, signaling that it was in the middle of the a file transfer. It took several painfully long seconds before the transfer was complete, but not before the others found a way through the locked door.

A loud bang reverberated through the laboratory as the lock on the fake wall was shot clean off by the rebel guard. Pulling the wall back, Kleiner and the guard entered the room, followed by Sasha and Yuri. The file transfer ended shortly thereafter and Stanley yanked the small device off of the computer terminal.

"What is the meaning of this?" Kleiner yelled. "Lamarr? Lamarr! What on Earth are you doing?" He said, kneeling by the side of the headcrab capped rebel. Caressing the bulging top of the alien creature finally caused it to loosen it's grip on the poor man's head, and it slipped off and into the doctor's arms. The man came up coughing, gasping for air, too busy regaining his breath to point blame at anyone.

"Is that thing your freaking pet?" Stanley asked, absolutely astounded, but Kleiner ignored him.

"What the hell happened?" The other rebel shot accusing stares at Stanley, Ivan, and an incapacitated Shephard.

The other two ignored him, and Yuri knelt at Shephard's side. "What's wrong with him?"

"I don't know, he just started seizing up!" Stanley cried, faking agitation. Yuri picked Adrian up off of the floor and was met by a very angry Kleiner.

"I don't know what happened here, but I do most certainly think is time you all were on your way!" He said, trying to be as threatening as a man of his stature could be. He looked in Sasha's direction. "I hope you'll consider what I've told you, but until then, Barney will escort you out of the city." The rebel guard armed with the shotgun came up behind Ivan jammed it into his back.

"The doctor asked you leave." But in a flash Ivan turned and grabbed the shotgun out of his hands, which he subsequently threw right back at the astonished guard.

"Don't you ever point that at me." He said, pointing at him.

"Ivan!" Sasha yelled, causing the room to become silent. "Everyone," He said, slightly calmer. "Let's just leave."

X X X

The five men now found themselves walking along the sidewalk. Yuri and Ivan had the weight of Shephard's collapsed body between them, and Stanley kept a watch on their rear. Several citizens passed them on their way back to meet Barney, but none thought anything of the incapacitated man, it was than a common sight.

"We need to find Barney soon, or we need to get the hell out of the open, he's going to attract attention." As if to emphasize Stanley's point, Shephard let out a low moan.

"I know." Was all Sasha said.

One block later, their luck finally ran out, as two Metrocops rounded the corner and spotted their group.

"Just act normal." Sasha whispered. The two cops came right in front of the group and one put up his hand in a gesture to stop.

"Stop. You are violating section protocol nine dash twelve. The restriction on groups larger than three persons." Sasha nodded politely and held his hands up in a gesture of obedience.

"I understand officer, but our friend…" He said pointing to Shephard. The guard looked the man up and down.

"Owww…" Adrian cried.

"…What's wrong with him?" His partner asked.

"He works at the factory on the east end of the city." Yuri announced, as if it was relevant. The guard cocked his head in confusion for a moment before the other one leaned over and whispered garbled.

The other nodded and waved his baton behind him, the way the group had been heading before. "Alright, but drop him off at the nearest clinic." Sasha seemed to be relieved but merely nodded.

"Thank you, officers." The two ignored him and walked past. Yuri was just about to exclaim how that had been close when one of the officers stopped. He turned and looked at Sasha as he walked away and noticed the bulge in the back of his pants.

"Citizen!" He yelled, brandishing his baton. "Stop where you are!" Sasha froze and didn't bother to turn around. The officer came up behind him and shoved him into the wall. "Spread 'em!" He ordered, and Sasha obeyed. His head pressed against the wall, he turned to look to Ivan, who returned the gaze, and reached for his pistol. But he quickly felt the barrel of the other officer's pistol jab into his back as he confiscated the pistol and threw it aside.

"You wont be needing that." He sneered through his gasmask.

The officer searching Sasha pulled the pistol from his waistband and pocketed it. Unholstering his own he pointed it at the back of Sasha's head, execution style.

Oh god, Stanley thought, this can't be happening.

"By violating section article two dash five, the illegal possession of weaponry, Civil Protection has authorized me to administer…" But he was cut off as a fist slammed into the side of his helmet, shattering it. The officer moaned and staggered to his knees, dropping the pistol. But before it hit the ground, Shephard had it in his hand, and turned to the officer holding Ivan, and let off three quick shots, two in the chest, one in the head. The helmet cracked and blood blew out the back. The officer didn't even gasp as his body fell to the ground.

But Shephard didn't see Metrocops lying on the ground. He saw two men, clad in black body armor, their faces masked with balaclavas. His hatred seethed, and the pain from shattering the helmet his with bare fist was nothing compared to the pounding in his temples.

"Adrian!" He heard someone yell, and he felt another one of the black masked men behind him.

The Metrocop, half his helmet lying on the concrete next to him, had struggled to his feet, and was waving his baton at Adrian. Several more rounded the corner, followed by the blaring siren that always accompanied one of their APCs. Adrian brought a hand up and caught the baton, slamming a fist into the cop's gut. Air rushing out of the man's exposed mouth, Shephard took the opportunity to wrestle the baton from him and slam it into his chest on his way back down into the concrete.

The other four had finally pulled themselves together and were tugging at Shephard as they fled in the opposite direction. But he wasn't listening and instead ran to meet the Metrocops head on.

Twirling in the air, he brought his baton down on the first one, jabbing him in the neck and felling him almost immediately. The other two drew their pistols, but Shephard was quicker and slung his baton at one, catching him in the face, and giving him enough time to pounce on the other one, letting loose several punches.

Shephard had yet to come out of his daze, and was only concentrating on the visions, sights that no one but him was seeing. Other men, clad in white camouflage, fighting beside him, creatures of unspeakable horrors, clutching at his own white camouflage. His face full of tears, Adrian grabbed the officers stun baton and brought it high above his head and back down on the dying Metrocop.

Over and over again he slammed the baton into the man's face, until nothing was left but a bloody mess. Soon he felt hands grasp at his clothing, people screaming at him to leave.

But he couldn't. Though nothing was left of the man's face, Shephard saw it change. First to that of an black man's, then into one belonging to an older man, then a younger, white man, slowly it formed into the scarred face of the nightmare captain that haunted his dreams.

And finally…

"Corporal Sssshephard…" the pale face grinned up at him.

"Jesus man, come on!" Stanley tried to pry Adrian away from the bloody corpse, but he wouldn't move. The APC was just around the corner, and he felt Sasha pull him away.

"Stanley we need to _go!_"

"But Adrian…"

"We can't help him!" Yuri agreed. His eyes watering at the sight of the despondent man, Stanley finally let go, his fingers gripping those last threads of his denim uniform.

The APC rounded the corner, its siren's screaming. It pulled up to Adrian, and the bodies of the five Metrocops. Three more officers poured out the back of the transport, brandishing machine guns. They kicked Adrian to the ground, he didn't bother fighting back. His face still streaming tears, he lay there while the officers beat him, and finally handcuffed him.

From down the block, in an alleyway, the four others watched Adrian, beaten and broken, as he was thrown into the back of the APC.

"Oh my god." Stanley said, nearly in tears. "What the hell are we going to do?" He looked at the other three.

No one met his stare. "We're not doing anything." Sasha said, turning around. The three of them left, leaving Stanley wondering how it had all come to this.

**A/N: So this was most definitely uploaded through the wonderful use of 56k dial-up. But hey what're you gonna do? I just moved from the States to New Zealand and I'm stuck with it for another week, but it also gives me plenty of time to write more updates! Hope you're all still enjoying!**


	25. A Traitor in Our Midst

_There's something coming_

_And it's coming for you_

_The mob is restless_

_Looking for something new_

_You lead us here with an eternal promise_

_The mob is calling for you to pay for this_

_And now we're left here on our own_

_There's nowhere left to turn_

_Who will see us through?_

Your Heroes are Dead – Project 86

Shephard's Story

-A Traitor in Our Midst-

"Hand me that wrench, will ya hunny?" Slick said, most of her body hid under the hover bike. Katya sat in a short swivel chair next to it, rolling her eyes in boredom, or anxiety, or both. They hadn't heard anything from her father for several hours. It wasn't uncommon, for the amount of work they had to do, but still…

"Katya?" She heard Slick's voice pull her out of her trance. Katya shook her head and grabbed the appropriate tool from the chest next to her and slid it underneath the bike.

"Sorry 'bout that." She apologized. Slick slid herself out from underneath the bike and wiped several spots of hydraulic liquid from her face.

"You worried about that Shephard boy, aren't ya?" She said, a small smile creasing her face.

Katya's cheeks grew red. "Well, everyone, I'm worried about how they're all doing."

"You don't need to hide it from me. I can tell you like him. Hell, I think he's cute." She said, handing the tool back to her. "Wire cutter."

Katya handed it to her and made a face of disgust. "Please, Slick. I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself."

Slick shrugged. "Suit yourself." She turned around and pulled open a side panel, revealing several different colored wires, and went to work.

"I sure hope father will contact us soon, though." Katya sighed.

"Well, if they're really plannin' on goin' inside the zone, it might still be awhile…" Slick said, still trying to concentrate.

"Yeah." Katya agreed. "But still, we'd have heard by now if something had happened, eh?" Slick didn't want to worry her, but couldn't look her in the eyes as she lied.

"Of course, hunny."

Trying to change the subject, Katya looked around. "Speaking of everyone, where the hell is Aaron?"

Slick's shoulders slumped at the thought of that pathetic excuse for a man. "I don't know. Not doin' his job, probably. Jerkin' off, I'd say."

Katya made a face. "Gross, Slick. I hope not."

"Yeah well whatever he's doin' I just hope it involves makin' sure no one gets inside the perimeter." She closed the small side pocket and handed the wire cutter back to Katya, then donned a pair of welder's goggles. "Alrighty, hand me Shirley."

Katya pulled the welding torch out of its sheath next to the tool bench. Twisting the nozzle, gas poured into the tubing, and Slick lit the end, producing a hot blue flame. Pulling the glasses down over her eyes, Slick began welding several pieces of steel over sensitive parts of the engine.

Katya had to look away from the now blinding sparks. "I don't think father trusts him anymore."

Slick didn't slow her pace as she responded. "Did he ever? Did you ever? I know I never did. He's good with a gun, and that can be both a blessing an' a curse with someone like him."

Katya didn't like to think about murder. There was too much of it outside to even pondering that it might intrude on their safe haven, down here below the surface. "I think he did, once. But Aaron's got it in his head that father isn't the boss anymore. Or at least that he doesn't have to listen."

"He got cocky." Slick replied.

"I don't know how much longer father will take it. You saw what happened right before they left." Katya said, recalling the confrontation the two had, and how her father had almost pulled his sidearm after Aaron had disobeyed.

"Everyone saw that, I'm thinkin' they'll be having words when he gets back."

"Oh," Katya sighed, feeling slightly worried. "I'm sure it'll be more than words…"

X X X

"Motherfuckin' machines!" Aaron said slapping the side of one of the monitors. He'd been sitting in this reeking dungeon for two hours, and he couldn't understand how Stanley could live down here like he did. "Probably why he smells." He snorted in disgust.

The monitor banks never changed. Nothing new was ever on the screens. Several times he'd seen a couple of houndeyes break the motion sensor perimeter, but nothing else. He began to wonder if Stanley ever actually watched the screens, or if he just slept. He didn't think he could keep his attention much longer.

He looked to the monitor that watched the garage, and noticed that Slick and Katya had begun welding some of the scrap metal to that piece of junk bike. Good, that would give him enough time. He sneered at the thought of those two, of everyone actually. What good did hiding like a bunch of fuckin' animals do? Overwatch would eventually find them. They took more and more risks every time they left the base. Supplies weren't strewn about ruined cities anymore like they'd been after the war. They'd all been scavenged, picked clean, and dryer than bleached bones in the sun.

Or maybe the Resistance would turn them in. They weren't the smartest fuckers, and they took more risks than Sasha did. One day they'd get caught, and they'd use the general and his team as leverage, so maybe they got a bullet in the back of the head, instead of a ticket to Nova Prospekt.

Either way, Aaron didn't plan on being _here_ when the shit hit the fan.

He pulled a small piece of crumpled up notebook paper from his pocket. He pulled his chair over to the communications screen and input the numbers for the nearest spy sat. His hand hovered above the enter key, unsure for a moment.

"Oh screw it." He whispered, and slapped it. The signal went through and the screen was blank for several seconds while it connected.

Finally the screen lit up, and he was more surprised to see the Metrocop on the other end than he had anticipated. He knew it had been coming, sure, but it was still strange.

The mask on the other end might have covered its wearer's expression, but Aaron knew the surprise by the body language. The uniform tensed and the hands flew across the keyboard, trying to find the source of the signal.

"It's useless. I've encrypted the signal. You wont find me unless I want you to. Which is exactly why I've called. So if you want to help in the biggest arrest of your career, you'll get your commanding officer to speak with me."

The Metrocop didn't respond, but his hands became still. He brought one up to the side of his face, and must have tapped a button for a secure access channel, because Aaron couldn't hear what he was saying.

Finally he let go, and tapped several things into the keyboard in front of him. In garbled English, he merely replied. "Transfering you."

Aaron put on his best shit-eating grin. "Well thank you very much officer, you've been most helpful." He knew the face under the mask must have been seething. No citizen ever disrespected a Civil Protection officer without repeating some kind of horrible consequence.

The screen was blank for a moment, when he was finally greeted by something that even terrified _him_. The white uniform was rarely seen, but Aaron knew what it meant the second the soldier came on screen. There was no turning back now; he was fucked if he did.

The single red ocular sensor sized him up, and was silent for what seemed like an eternity. Aaron was about to open him mouth when that same grinding noise that had terrified him since he was small made it's way through the screen.

"Anti-citizen." It simply said. "Strange." The Combine Elite cocked its white helmet.

Before it could continue, Aaron jumped right into his planned speech. "I've got a deal to make with you. I've got…"

"The Combine does not make _deals_. The Combine cleans and sterilizes. Anti-citizen, you have been charged with violations that amount to nothing less than off-world removal. If you turn yourself in immediately, you may be sparred, and have capital punishment administered instead."

Aaron took a deep breath. He had thought this would happen; Combine soldiers were built to follow orders without questioning. All sense of reasoning was lost on them. But Aaron knew that Elite's were generally given more artificial intelligence, and being logical with them wasn't as impossible as it might seem. "I understand, sir, but why have me when I could give you much more."

The Elite seemed to compute what Aaron said. "Continue." It ordered.

"I have the location of a human underground base."

"Resistance?" The Elite inquired.

"Well, that too. But I have the location of Sasha Destovaya." He smiled smugly, this could all work out for him.

The Elite was busy accessing information, and didn't reply right away. "Anti-citizen Destovaya. Violations: Illegal possession of human weaponry, trafficking of weaponry to recognized enemies of the state, several…"

Aaron took a gamble by cutting the machine off. "Yes, all those things. And I can get him for you, and the weapons he's been running."

"In exchange for your life?" The Elite tapped the keyboard and the female voice ended it's listing of Sasha's many recorded offenses.

Aaron nodded. "You set me up back in North America, and you get Sasha, his team, and the location of every single person he supplies to." It all seemed to be going in his favor now.

"Unacceptable. We will apprehend anti-citizens without assistance. Your life is meaningless." His voice, even through the interference, was especially icy. Aaron's heart sank; he had only one last option. He frantically pulled the object from the table behind him, and he could tell the Elite was about to end their conversation.

"He… Destovaya, he's found something I think you might be interested in." He pulled the vest, the protective vest Adrian had been found with, and showed it to the soldier. "None of your soldiers have anything like this."

The Elite had his hand hovering over what Aaron new must be the button to cut the transmission. But slowly he retracted it. "Where did you get that?" He ordered, sounding slightly frantic.

"We found it on someone." Aaron finally felt like he might get out of this.

"Who? Who did you find it on?" His fingers were now flying along the keyboard accessing information Aaron couldn't see.

"Some guy named Shephard." The Elite's fingers stopped tapping almost immediately, and his single red eye remained fixed on the vest.

"I believe you have secured your freedom."

Aaron didn't know what Shephard had to do with this, but he was glad to finally have his way out.

X X X

The large metal doors of the underground base shuddered and finally began to lift. The blackness beyond in the caverns that served as the entry points for the base was broken by the head lights of the van as it came to a slow stop in the loading bay.

Katya, Slick and Aaron stood waiting in the bay. Katya nearly sprinted to the van as it's engine cut, and everyone began to get out.

"Father!" She said confronting the General. "Why? Why didn't you contact us?" Her father couldn't meet her gaze. Her face registered even more worry. "What? What happened?"

Her father turned to Aaron and the others. "Unload the truck." Katya finally noticed that Shephard was not among those who'd gotten out of the van.

Panic welled up inside of her, and she grabbed her father's arm forcing him to meet her stare. "Sasha," She said, using his first name. "Where is Adrian?" He shook his head, his eyes down cast.

"We were leaving the city, the kid was pretty messed up; incoherent, mumbling. Civil Protection stopped us, and noticed your dad was armed. They would've arrested us, but Adrian went ape-shit and killed them. We tried to make a run for it, but he wouldn't leave. A couple of units picked him up." Stanley said, relating their sad story. Katya's eyes began to well up, and she brought a gloved hand to her cheek, smearing away any sign of tears.

"So he saved your life?" She growled, accusingly at her father. "And you left him?"

"I didn't have a choice." He replied, somberly. "I don't need to explain myself to you."

Katya finally let go of his arm, only to bring a fist down on his chest. "He saved your life! You have _every_ reason to explain yourself!" The tears finally began to flow as she pulled at her father's denim top. "You don't know what they'll do to him…" She sobbed. "You…he, he's got no one!" Slick came up behind her and held her close.

"Shh, babygirl, shh." She cradled Katya as she shot the general a death glare. "Calm down, come with me." She tried to pull Katya out of the room.

Everyone was looking at the General now. Only Aaron replied. "Well, looks like that stray turned out useful after all." He said, yawning. "Better him than you."

The rest of the group shot him looks of disgust, and Ivan was about to respond, when the General broke the silence. "Stanley." He motioned to him. "Give it to me." He held out his hand, and Stanley handed him the memory card. "Good, unload the truck, get those meds down to the infirmary."

X X X

Down in the garage, Sasha sat in front of the bank of computers that made up Stanley's laboratory. He held a small PDA in one hand and had his other hand resting on Adrian's power vest. Slowly, he slid the memory card into a slot on the back and tapped several buttons, accessing the small treasure trove of information the card held.

Names, dates, births, criminal records; everything he needed. His trembling fingers input the necessary information. The small computer whirled and whined, accessing what he had requested. His fingers gripped around the collar of the vest as the results were displayed.

A sharp intake of breath followed. How could it be possible? He tried the search again.

/search: Shephard, Adrian

Corporal A. Shephard

United States Marine Corps.

**Training**

United States Special Forces

Sharp Shooting

Specialized Hand-to-hand Combat

**Tours of Duty**

Kuwait

Iraq

Kosovo

Bosnia

Transferred to HECU 21st Mary, 1997

///Classified

The report ended there, the rest classified, and to top it all off, a small, neat picture accompanied the information. The grip on the power vest intensified. He hadn't aged at all, longer hair, sure, but virtually identical. With watery eyes, Sasha set the PDA down and sighed deeply.

It was time to act.

X X X

Everyone was busy unloading the truck when the General rushed into the loading bay. No longer sporting his citizen's uniform, he had changed into his combat fatigues and an MP5 bounced on his chest, and the prized Spas 12 "Stella" cradled in his arms, as he ran up to the group.

Katya, her eyes still red from crying, shot him a look of surprise.

Tossing the shotgun at Ivan, the muscle-bound man dropped the crate he was holding and caught the weapon deftly. "Suit up." The general ordered. Everyone shot him looks of disbelief.

"…What?" Stanley finally managed to ask.

The General let a small smile cross his face. "I said 'suit up'. We're going after Shephard." Katya's eyes lit up and she turned to Slick, who was equally shocked.

"You've gotta be freaking kidding me." Aaron grimaced. Sasha didn't bother looking at him.

"Everyone goes." He added. Ivan nodded and followed Yuri out of the loading bay, towards the armory.

Aaron sauntered up to Sasha. "I ain't goin' back out there, especially not on some suicide mission to save a nobody." Katya looked up and glared in his direction.

"He isn't a 'nobody', he's part of this team." Sasha countered. "And I say we go get him. I'm in charge, Aaron, and you'd do well to remember that." Aaron simply sneered and walked off. Sasha made a grab for his arm and held on tight, pulling him close, whispering into his ear. "Don't you fucking walk away from me." Aaron tried to get himself free, only resulting in an increase of the painful grip. "You walk away, you better be walking out of this goddamn base." This gave Aaron pause for a second. Finally he sighed and shook himself loose of the General's grip, turning his back on him.

Sasha took a deep breath and didn't bother to turn and watch Aaron walk off. "Stanley." He called the young tech over.

"Yeah General?" Sasha turned him so they were facing away from Katya and Slick, who were watching Aaron saunter out of the room.

"I need you to access the Overwatch transmissions from 17. I need schedules for trains, troop, and prisoner transports, high profile, and low." He hunched closer and whispered. "Katya was probably right. After what he did, Adrian's probably earned himself a one-way to Nova Prospekt, that might be a good place to start." Stanley nodded.

"You got it." Sasha turned to let the man go. "What's with the change of heart, sir?"

Sasha turned to Katya, who thanked him with the smile in her eyes.

"Just get me those schedules."

**A/N: Tell me what you think! And remember, you've all really made this story what it is, so thank yourselves!**

-Blind


	26. The Rescue

_And when you wanted me i came to you  
And when you wanted someone else i withdrew  
And when you asked for light i set myself on fire _

_And if i go  
Far away  
I know you'll find another slave  
_

_Cause now i'm free  
From what you want  
Now i'm free  
From what you need  
Now i'm free  
From what you are _

Who You Are – AudioSlave

Shephard's Story

-The Rescue-

The electrified baton buried itself in Shephard's midsection and he fell to the floor of the small room coughing. Blood spattered the floor and he curled up on the checkered linoleum. The Civil Protection officer towering over him laughed callously, and holstered the baton.

Adrian couldn't remember much before Kleiner's lab, but the hatred and anger he had felt hadn't disappeared. He couldn't remember anything in the fog, but he did come out of it as they drug him out of the APC. He remembered being half carried, half drug by two officers up the stairs of the front of a large, ornate building. It looked more like an old museum, but the Combine had seen fit to reinforce it with their own machinery and security, till it looked little like what it had started out as.

He had heard the words "Overwatch Nexus" several times, as he was carried down the many corridors to a small room with a single light, and thrown inside, where he curled up, awaiting his interrogation. He moaned as the pressure in his temples, which hadn't subsided at all since his slip into unconsciousness, wracked his brain. His stomach did summersaults and his vision blurred, as he struggled to gain control of his body.

Finally the small door opened, and in walked two identical Metrocops. They looked at the ailing man lying on the floor and both turned to each other and chuckled. They set to beating him, first with their boots and fists, and finally, when they had tired, with the electrified batons.

Splatters of blood now pocked the floor, and the door finally shut behind the cop, leaving Adrian alone once more. Why hadn't they interrogated him? His brain hurt too much to ponder, but he guessed it was merely to soften him up.

And he was right, moments later another officer appeared in the room, and grabbed one of his outstretched hands firmly. Sliding his thumb across a small electronic reader, the CP waited, tapping his tall, Gestapo-like boot impatiently.

The small thumbprinter reader chirped negatively, and the Metrocop growled in frustration.

Tapping the side of his helmet, he spoke into his radio. "His file isn't registering."

An equally garbled voice responded. "Check it again." The Metrocop made another harsh grab for Shephard's hand, causing him to moan, and swiped his thumb over the reader again.

Again, it was accompanied by the same negative chirp. "I'm sending his print, put it through the central database, see it they can pull up a pre-war file."

The cop stood still for several moments, idling tapping his boot while he waited for a reply from the Overwatch central database. Finally a voice answered his request.

"Overwatch inquires the subject's description." The voice requested.

"Caucasian, mid-twenties, central." The Metrocop relayed. There was a long drawn out pause.

"Overwatch wants the subject put in maximum security lockdown. They're dispatching a special unit to work him over." The Metrocop cocked his head.

"What's so important about him?" The voice on the other end offered a scathing response.

"It's not your job to question Overwatch, that wont get you promoted." The Metrocop didn't need to reply to that.

After that, Adrian found himself being lead, almost gently, down the halls into a small cell near one of their security stations. They laid him down on a metal cot and left the room, locking the door behind him. Shephard curled up on the metal bed and tried to push away the pain.

X X X

Two Metrocops sat the security station near the prisoner's cell, watching the monitors, filing requests for prisoner transfers. The large, holographic computer screen in front of one of them lit up bright blue, and the officer, who had been leaning back in his chair, rather relaxed, immediately tensed up, his posture straightening.

The white helmet on the screen shook disapprovingly, but left the indiscretion alone. "This is unit Alpha 12. Request file on prisoner in cell…" His helmet cocked to the side, searching for the appropriate designation. "Beta thirteen." The officer nodded and set to work. Alpha 12 was one of the higher ups in Sector 17 Overwatch. Rumors circulated that he had been one of the first to join, a military man before the war, and was now the head of operations for Nova Prospekt.

"Yes, sir, one moment." His gloved fingers flew across the holographic keyboard, bringing up the requested information.

The Combine Elite nodded his approval. "Affirmative. Query, prisoner is to be put on next available transport to Nova Prospekt facility." The Metrocop looked up the necessary schedules and frowned underneath his mask.

"Next available train is not until twenty-three hundred hours." The white mask on the other end failed to show any sign of emotion, not that Combine soldiers had emotions to begin with.

"Sequester Bravo group to escort prisoner in armored personnel carriers." The Metrocop nodded and sent the request through.

"Done. Prisoner will be enroute by oh-eight hundred hours." The Combine Elite nodded and terminated the conversation.

Next to the Metrocop, his partner leaned back and rested his hands behind his head. "That was odd. What's all the fuss over one prisoner? And to get the head of the re-education camp involved…"

The other Metrocop sighed and input the last of the orders through to command. "Beats me, but he's got to be one unlucky bastard."

X X X

Shephard sat on the end of his cot, in the small cell, and rubbed the back of his head. The painful thumping in his temples had finally subsided, leaving only a dull pain. But now he was faced with the current situation, and he didn't like his options. Overwatch had obviously picked him up somewhere, he was sure his friends hadn't given him up.

Lifting his eyes up to the light, he breathed in and yawned. Maybe Overwatch had arrested them as well. Standing up, he found it slightly awkward, as the room began to teeter back and forth. Steadying himself against the wall, he let the swaying motion fade, and got his bearings.

Just in time for Civil Protection to open the cell door and hold him at gunpoint while they hand cuffed him. Shephard didn't bother struggling, what use was it? He followed the officers down the hall, and out into the courtyard, where several APCs were parked, their engines idling.

In front of the vehicles, what Adrian could only describe as riot-gear clad Civil Protection units, stood. They wore armor much thicker than the normal unit, and wielded the same machine guns, MP7's, that he had seen Aaron with. The Civil Protection units escorting him dropped him off in front of two of the soldier-like Combine units.

"He's all yours." One of the CP's chuckled. The soldier grabbed Shephard gruffly and tore him away from the Metrocops. One of them leaned over to the other. "No fucking sense of humor."

The other one didn't bother hiding his comments. "No sense of anything, fucking robots." And with that, they walked off.

The soldier pulled the back doors of the APC open and pushed Adrian inside. "Prisoner will be seated." It said, like the Metrocop had implied, almost robotically. Shephard did as he was told and the Soldier climbed in, and closed the doors behind him.

Not long after, the convoy began to move, and Shephard began to feel himself soothed to almost a calm, by the gentle swaying of the vehicles trip through the city.

"So where are we going?" He finally decided to break the silence. The soldier, who had not broken from his statuesque vigil, did not even move.

"Information is not relevant." Was all he was able to pry from the soldier. Shephard sighed and lay down on the small bench on his side of the transport. He was beginning to think it might be a long ride.

X X X

Sasha stood alone in the armory. Everyone had already suited up, and were waiting in the garage. He rested against the shop table; several bullet casings and tool littered its desktop. His weapon laid heavy on his chest, and it felt as though it was impairing his breathing as he tried to summon up the courage for what would come next.

"Hey…" A voice spoke from behind. Sasha didn't both to look, he knew the voice of his old friend Yuri. The older man came to stand next to him and sighed loudly, staring at the myriad of weapons adorning the walls and cases. "Everyone's ready."

Sasha grunted. "No one is ever ready to take Overwatch head on." He replied caustically.

Yuri didn't both to reply, but instead reached up and took a Tokareva TT-33 from its mooring on the wall and held it nearly reverently. "We said we'd never leave a comrade behind."

"Those days were over before the Combine came." Sasha growled, and turned away, his back to the table, folding his arms defiantly over his chest.

"He's special. You wouldn't have done this if you knew he wasn't worth it." Yuri said, placing the loaded weapon in his belt. "What is so special about him that you are willing to risk our lives?"

Sasha's rebellious demeanor left his eyes and he turned to his old friend. "He's… I can't… I can't explain it." Yuri rested his hand on Sasha's shoulder, his wrinkly brow scrunching in a smile.

"I think I understand." Sasha relaxed slightly and motioned to the door, beckoning them to leave.

"You realize, we do this, and there is no turning back." Yuri's smile faded, replaced by a stern and serious frown. "We throw our chip in with the Resistance."

Sasha couldn't help looking at the empty space where Stella once rested. "I know."

Sasha led the way out of the armory, and into and uncertain future. "Then I'll follow your lead, General." Yuri said, optimism peppering his voice.

X X X

"Aaron's gone." Sasha asked, incredulous. Stanley could only nod in reply. "Where the hell did he go?" Sasha nearly screamed.

Slick, sitting in the passenger seat of the scout car, answered him. "No one knows, he took one of the vans and left while we were all suiting up."

Sasha cursed and looked to Stanley. "No time now, but when we get back, I want you to change all the security codes and invalidate his security pass, that bastard isn't getting back in here."

"Got it, but we're already running late. That transport will only be vulnerable once it passes outside of scanner range, and it wont be for long." They knew if they wanted any chance to escape before they had Overwatch breathing down their neck, they would need to do it while the convoy that held Adrian was out of scanner range, meaning that there would be no visual of what happened until a retrieval team was sent out.

Sasha nodded. "Everyone saddle up! We're moving out!" He said as he slipped into the driver's seat of the scout car.

"Father…" Katya said, appearing next to him. Dressed in form fitting black, she held a sleek version of an AK-107 around her neck. No words could explain what she needed to, so she leaned in and hugged her father. This display of affection, uncommon among the two, spoke more words than needed to be said. She let go slowly, looking her father in the eyes, who nodded back. Bounding away, she hopped into the back of the van with Stanley.

X X X

The ride seemed interminable. Adrian sat on the cold metal seat, which never seemed to warm despite his position on it for what seemed like hours, contemplating the enigma that sat across from him. Though the masked soldier rocked along with the movement of the vehicle, he never moved himself. He never adjusted his armor, never moved to scratch an itch, never moved to cough, never moved to do _anything_. What the Metrocops had said was right, these people _were_ robots.

"So what's this Nova…"

"Information is not relevant." The walking, talking machine cut him off. Adrian had been playing this game the last hour with him, or her, or whatever it was. He had finally asked it so many times, it had begun to anticipate his questions, though "information is not relevant" was hardly an original answer, after the first thirty times.

The restraints on his wrists began to itch, and Shephard maneuvered them towards his chin to let the stubble do the job his hands were incapable of doing.

"Cease." The soldier ordered. Adrian stopped mid-scratch and stared at the soldier, who hadn't moved. "Cease movement." It elaborated. Adrian let his hands fall down to his sides, his need to itch obscured by the terror this emotionless drone had bore into him.

"Jesus, fucking machines." He snorted, assuming the soldier wouldn't react. But Shephard wrong, and as the soldier stood up amidst the rocking of the APC, Adrian began to think insulting him was a bad thing to do.

But before the soldier could raise a hand, the APC rocked to a stop as the outside exploded in a roar and rush of air. The APC teetered back and forth on its wheels and finally settled back down. The soldier, who had wedged himself between the floor and the low ceiling, spoke, surprisingly calmly, into his radio.

"Bravo, bravo, confirm; convoy has suffered damage." He was almost immediately answered.

"Uh… Roger that. Alpha one has sustained major structural damage from one incoming RPG." The voice responded. "Suggest prisoner be secured while additional units scour the area."

"Understood, command." His guard radioed back. Adrian tried to stand up, but the barrel of the machine gun was pressed firmly into his chest. "Prisoner will remain seated!" The soldier ordered.

"What the hell is going…" He began.

"Information is not…" But Adrian could already feel the anger welling up inside of him.

"I…KNOW!" He said, as the soldier kicked him back into his seat.

The outside of their APC immediately began clinking with the sound of small arms fire, and Adrian began to wonder just what the hell was going on.

X X X

"Reload." Ivan cried out, and he reset the targeting laser on the RPG. Stanley reached into a crate next to them and pulled out another orange rocket, sliding it into the back of the launcher.

Next to them, high up on the hill overlooking the small valley in which the APCs were now stranded, Slick and Yuri took to picking off the several soldiers that had ventured out of their APCs, trying to determine the source of the missile.

With her M4 carbine, and attached scope, Slick easily picked off the first two she saw, sending bullets in and out the back of their helmets.

"That's two!" She grinned. Yuri, next to her, grimaced as his AK-47 rounds failed to deal a mortal wound to one of the soldiers taking cover behind the rear wheel.

"Which one is Shephard's?" Ivan asked, not wanting to hit the transport with their friend in it.

"It'll be one in the middle, hit the rear one!" Stanley cried over the roar of gunfire. Of the five transports, they had already stopped them cold with a rocket to the front one, and now they hopped to stop anymore from having the option to back up. Ivan let the red laser dance across the valley floor in a sick ballet of death, as he lined it up with the midsection of the rear vehicle and called out.

"Fire in the hole!" He said, letting the rocket loose. The missile flew across the short distance to the stationary vehicles, its contrail white and twisted. The Overwatch soldiers saw the white trail and trained their weapons on the hilltop, covered in trees and let loose. But as the missile streaked into the side of the APC, the soldiers took cover, as the shock wave rocked the other transports and sent shrapnel flying, hitting several soldiers.

Shephard sat in the middle APC, his thoughts on the war outside. Already another explosion had rocked the vehicle, and the sounds of soldiers falling to the gunfire could be hear quite plainly over his guard's headset, who hadn't moved since his last orders.

Finally the gunfire began to die down, till it was silent. The soldier, who had been standing mute, finally relaxed his aim, and spoke into his comset. "Command? Command respond. Command?" The soldier waited for several seconds before bringing his hand up to his helmet, tapping into a secure channel. "Outbreak, outbreak, outbreak! Infection has overrun!" He said, turning away from Adrian. Kicking open the back doors, he grabbed his prisoner.

Adrian struggled; this might be his chance to escape. He kicked and thrashed, but only succeeded in being drug out of the APC and into the hot sunlight, and thrown onto the ground. The soldier trained his weapon on Shephard. "By authority of section code two-one-oh-eight, I am given permission to sterilize…"

"No!" Adrian said, bringing his feet up to make one last desperate attempt. He succeeded, knocking the soldier off balance and into the dusty ground next to him. Shephard scrambled for the gun that lay next to the soldier, and grabbed it awkwardly. Holding it more like a pistol he had to struggle to hold it steady, as the soldier climbed to his feet and realized the turn of events. Adrian took a second to wonder how someone could let themselves be co-opted like this one had. Did he have a name? Or just a number?

"What… what are you?" He chocked out. The soldier stood silent. Suddenly, though, the back of his helmet blew out, and his limp form fell to his knees, the small hole in the front of his helmet oozed blood for several moments, before the body fell, face first, into the dust.

"They never hesitate, so neither should you…" Shephard knew that voice; regardless, he turned to find the heavenly sight of Katya, holding her rifle at the ready, a smile on her angelic face. "Hey…" She said nodding to the weapon shaking in his hands. "Want to point that bad boy somewhere else?" Shephard laughed, surprisingly, and set the weapon down on the dirt.

Katya slung her rifle behind her back and took Adrian into her arms. The two embraced long, Adrian taking in the smell of her hair, as she felt the strength in his arms as he held her.

Behind them, Sasha stood, watching. Finally, with the sounds of the warning klaxons of Overwatch dropships in the distance, he interrupted the moment. "We need to leave."

Katya didn't let go awkwardly this time. She looked Adrian in the eyes, and took him by the hand. "Let's get out of here."

Adrian, his mind still reeling from what just happened nodded and held her hand tight. "Yeah, you got it."


	27. The Consequences of Failure

_Day after day your home life's a wreck  
The powers that be just breathe down your neck  
You get no respect  
You get no relief  
You gotta speak up  
And yell out your piece_

_So back off your rules  
Back off your jive  
Cause I'm sick of not living to stay alive  
Leave me alone  
Not asking a lot  
I don't wanna to be controlled_

_That's all I want  
That's all I want  
That's all I want  
That's all I want_

All I Want – The Offspring

Shephard's Story

-The Consequences of Failure-

"Lets see if we can't get you cleaned up." Yuri smiled as he inspected Shephard's bare chest down in the bowels of the base, on the cold metal of the infirmary bed. Shephard shivered, but not because of the cold. He remembered waking in here, and he had yet to make any progress towards remembering who he was before that.

He looked at himself and the doctor in the mirror across the room, and he was reminded of that cold, calculating man he had seen in the reflection, and again in Ravenholm, and in his dreams. The doctor tended to Adrian's bruises and applied anti-biotic creams to many of the cuts and scrapes he had incurred.

Shephard was silent throughout all this, collecting his thoughts, before he finally chose to speak. "Thank you." He said quietly. Yuri looked up, an appreciative smile on his wrinkling face.

"You're welcome. Though, to be honest, it's the general you should be thanking. He sees something in you, something I don't think he quite understands yet." Shephard sighed and lowered his head.

"Neither do I." He responded dejectedly.

The large metal door came alive with the sound of knocking, and Yuri opened it. With his back to the door, Adrian couldn't see who it was.

"Oh." He heard Yuri begin. "I'll leave you two alone." Adrian crooked his head around to see who it was, and saw the figure of Katya closing the door behind her.

"Hey…" She began, walking up to the table. Adrian felt self conscious, sitting there without his shirt, covered in bruises. "How ya feeling?"

Adrian didn't meet her gaze, looking around for something to cover himself up with. "I'm okay, really. Just some minor cuts and scrapes." But before he could object, she was right in front of him. Her hands reached hesitantly out, finally coming nervously to rest on his skin, next to several burn marks, sites of electrified baton abuse.

Shephard hissed at the slight pain. "I'm so sorry…" Her voice was nearly a whisper. "Look." She said, her voice becoming more serious. "Father, he… well he told me some things. About you. And I just wanted to… I just thought that you should be the first to…" Her words failed her, and she grew silent.

"What, Katya. What did your father tell you?" Shephard insisted, desperation in his voice.

Katya lost her look of seriousness, and a small smile creased her perfect lips. "There's a celebration in Claiborne tonight. They're honoring father. I was wondering if you'd like to go with me." Her eyes, though visibly wet, tried to put on the appearance of happiness.

Shephard sighed, and smiled back her. "I'd love to." The close proximity finally registered with them both, and Katya stepped away. Making her way to the door, she turned and winked at him.

"Bring your dancing suit!"

"It's dancing 'shoes'." He corrected her, smiling widely. Katya looked puzzled for a moment, then turned to leave. Adrian hopped down from the table and looked around for a shirt, when he finally realized what he had said. "Where did _that _come from?" He wondered. How did he know such an archaic phrase like that?

X X X

The Elite stood in front of the holographic display, as the administrator berated him at length.

"How could you order your forces," He paused for a moment, to collect himself, his rage apparent in his frantic rambling. "_Excuse_ me, not _your_ forces, the forces of the sector seventeen branch of the Transhuman Overwatch, to traffic a _single_ prisoner across known Rebel territory? They were exposed from the beginning, and for what?"

Given the chance to speak finally, the Elite made his case. "Sir, excuse me, but have you looked at the attached files I sent to you?" The aging administrator waved a dismissive hand.

"It means nothing. He is not a _remnant_." He stressed the word. "I cannot condone what you did. There was sufficient and ample time to send him via train. You broke with protocol, and you more than anyone, _Major Aldrich_, are familiar with the consequences of failure." The Elite shuddered at the mention of his former, _human_, name. The administrator took note of this. "See? The very mention of your human form makes you to tremble. And it is that human part of you that failed. You let a personal vendetta get in the way of performing your sworn _duty_ to the Universal Union, commander." The Elite stood silent, with not a single word to give in his defense. The administrator, content that he made his point, relaxed visibly. "Now, do we know who did this?"

The Elite straightened up, glad to have a positive answer. "Yes we do, we have an insider." The administrator nodded his approval.

"Burn them. Leave nothing." The Elite nodded and the administrator terminated the conversation.

Wallace Breen sat back in his large leather chair perched high above the city, at the top of the Combine Citadel. Sighing, he leaned forward and looked at the flow of data across his blue-hued computer screen. Specifically he was trying to reread the attached file that the Elite commander, Helo 12, had supplied him with on the prisoner. It was impossible that this Adrian Shephard could have survived. He was not on any known list of military survivors. Granted it was possible he could have escaped with Colonel Destovaya's group of traitors, but it was unlikely.

Breen shuddered at the thought of that band of terrorists, and their efforts to disrupt all that he had worked to diligently to create. Another report, buried underneath the information regarding this supposed Shephard character, relayed more troubling news about the rouge marines. Breen pulled it up and sighed at the report; another outpost decimated. If only they would just…

The air in front of his desk shimmered. He thought it might be a problem with his glasses, as he wiped them clean. But when he put them back on, the shimmering effect was still there, like the air rising from hot pavement. Suddenly the shimmering stopped, almost as suddenly as it had appeared. And just as Breen was about to relax, to write it off as a fatigue induced hallucination, the room bust into a million different colors, blinding him momentarily. Shielding his eyes with his hands, he brought them down, only to find…

He couldn't believe it.

Could it really be?

Gordon Freeman.

X X X

"Drink up!" Stanley patted Adrian firmly on the back, his speech slurring. "It's the only time we ever get any of this!" He said, holding up his own stein, overflowing with foamy beer. The celebration raged around them, and Shephard had a hard time not feeling the joy and euphoria. Claiborne was not the picture of desperation he had remembered from his short stay. No longer was it a lifeless ghost town, lingering with the promise of life beneath it's stale and decaying exterior. The light from the many fires cast bouncing shadows across the crumbling buildings' walls, and the sounds of several hundred people rejoicing filled Shephard with a feeling of goodwill he couldn't remember feeling before.

All around him, refugees of the walled-off city, and even several from the ill-fated Ravenholm, danced, drank and celebrated the minor, insignificant blow against the Combine. Adrian sipped at his beer tepidly, as if uninterested in it. A band played on a small, wooden makeshift stage in the center of town. A pair of old guitars and a crumbling set of drums played the tune to Born to be Wild. The music was devoid of lyrics, though Shephard doubted there was anyone around who was old enough to remember them.

Sitting alone on one of the many benches lining the exterior of the city center, Shephard sat and watched everyone having fun. Suddenly a form sat down next to him, but Adrian didn't move to see who it was, he already knew.

"They sure do throw one hell of a party over the littlest of things." Shephard smiled as he observed.

"Well, in some small way, I guess they need hope, that's been in short supply around here, as of late." Sasha's confident voice seemed less sure. Out of the corner of his eye, Adrian saw him lift a beer glass to his mouth, gulping down several swallows. "Any victory, no matter how small, needs to be remembered."

"Funny to hear you say that. I didn't think you believed in attacking the Combine head on." He turned to Sasha, who was wiping excess beer from his chin. He didn't turn to meet Shephard's gaze, instead he stared intently at the nearest fire. The pale glow cast an eerie shadow across his wrinkled features.

"I don't." He held the beer glass in between both legs and stared at it, his finger lazily tracing the rim of the glass. "I did it because…" But he stopped as both men saw the slender shadow cast by Katya make it way up to them. As if on cue, the raging rock and roll began to slow, to a soft, romantic pace.

Katya stood in front of Adrian, her arm outstretched. "Care to dance?" Her hair fell across her cheeks, framing her perfect face. Adrian looked to Sasha, hoping he would finish what he was going to say, but the man only shrugged his approval.

Taking her hand, Shephard followed her out onto the square. All around them, men and woman were locked together in the age-old ritual of the slow dance. His past a mystery, even Adrian knew the steps to this dance. Katya put her arms around his neck, and his arms slowly circled her waist. The back had scaled back the loud rock song, to a ballad reminiscent of Frank Sinatra. As the vocalist softly cooed about the joys of love, Shephard could feel Katya pull herself closer against his body.

Sitting down on the bench next to Sasha, Yuri looked over at the two young adults dancing in the middle of the square.

"You told her?" Yuri quietly inquired. Sasha nodded. "And she doesn't care?"

"She doesn't know _what _to think." He said, taking another swig of his beer.

"Have you told him?" Sasha shook his head. "You know you need to eventually tell him… it might be a shock, hell, I would freak out if _I_ found out I was actually a marine thought to be dead for the last decade or two, but maybe it'll jump start the memory process. Y'know, get the cogs turnin'."

Sasha didn't respond, but Yuri knew he would take his advice. Instead, he changed the topic. "I had Stanley change the security pass codes, but I'll still want double surveillance shifts for the time being. At least until we're sure he isn't coming back."

Yuri sighed and leaned back. "You mean Aaron… How are we so sure he wont sell us out, give us over to the Combine?"

Sasha leaned back, his eyes still fixated on the young couple. "He knows he'll regret it if he does. He wouldn't walk away from something like that."

"I sure hope you're right…" Yuri sighed. After awhile he finally breached the silence. "Look, I hate to bring this up again but…have you thought about what Kleiner asked you?"

Sasha let out an exaggerated sigh. "Come on, Yuri, not now."

Yuri persisted. "You need to make a decision. Now you're the boss, so I wont make them for you, but really, I have to tell you, I'm beginning to agree with them. Getting them in contact with your brother might be the only chance to take that thing out."

Sasha turned to Yuri, a look of harsh disbelief on his face, the shadows from the flame making his face all the more exaggerated. "And just what do you think _he_ can do for the Resistance that he hasn't already done?" Yuri was slightly taken aback. "He has more of that surveillance crap than they do, if he hasn't done anything by now, he probably can't do a goddamned thing about it."

Sasha was silent for a while, before finally continuing. "It's more that I don't want him exposed to those crack pots. He's doing what he can over there, and from what I hear, doing it well. He doesn't need some whiny Black Mesa survivor half way across the world, begging him to offer his technological assistance." He finally turned away, staring back into the flames.

Slightly dejected, Yuri brought his own mug to his lips. "I'm just saying you should think about it, is all."

Sasha huffed and got up. "Come on, let's get out of here, I don't like leaving it unguarded so long."

Yuri finished his beer and gulped it down loudly. "Yessir." He mumbled.

Her smell, her touch, everything about her was beginning to intoxicate him. Adrian pulled her closer to him as the music continued, and she laid her head on his shoulder. He could feel her breathing on his chest, the small puffs of warm air that felt like heaven. Her hands reached behind his head and massaged his hair. Adrian turned his head to look into her eyes.

"There's a reason we met…" She whispered softly. "It can't be purely accidental." Adrian didn't respond, he didn't have to, he was inclined to agree with her.

"I can't remember ever feeling this happy before…" He whispered back, his grip on her hips sliding down to the tops of her thighs.

Katya smiled broadly back up at him. "You don't remember anything, silly."

Adrian laughed back at her, and felt the warmness wash over him. "Yeah, that's me, Mr. No-Memory."

Katya giggled slightly, but began to pull his head towards hers. "So why don't we start making some _good_ memories?"

Adrian relented, and tilted her head to meet his lips. The soft, yielding lips felt like clouds, and the two lovers were enveloped in the moment.

It all seemed to go by in a flash. One moment they were dancing outside, and the next they were locked in a passionate kiss, tumbling inside one of the many vacant rooms of the dormitories. Katya pulled Adrian's worn sweater off, through it to the side, and immediately locking lips.

More articles of clothing would soon fall to the floor, and more than just kissing would transpire, as the two fell onto one of the cots, sending a cloud of dust flying off in all directions, like some mini diasporas. No words were conveyed, only feeling. The only sounds they made were the occasional moan.

That was the first night Shephard had slept without the nightmares.

X X X

The gray morning light shown through the dusty windows of the empty dormitory. It shined into Katya's eyes and she struggled to turn over, to gain reprieve from the intrusive light. She felt the warmness of another person's body next to her and she immediately tensed. Turning over she saw the content form of Adrian sleeping soundly next to her. Her eyes traveled up and down his body, remembering the night before.

She tightly shut her eyes and bit back the guilt. Why had she not told him? Why hadn't she the courage? Was it because she thought he would leave her? Go off to find out where he belonged, that's what she told herself he would do. She had to stop this, she couldn't be any closer to him she was starting to fall…

Quickly and quietly she dressed, so as not to wake him. Slipping her boots on and tying the laces tight, she reached into her backpack and pulled out a small notebook. Quickly ripping out a small corner, she wrote him a short note, leaving it at the bedside before she collected her things and left.

X X X

Adrian awoke to the sound of feet shuffling outside the door to the room. He groggily rubbed the sleep from his eyes before letting a hand fall next to him, hoping to catch Katya unawares. Though his hand only fell upon an empty space. Propping himself up on elbow he surveyed the spot where she once lay and saw the small piece of scribbled notebook paper.

_Adrian,_

_I'm sorry, last night was amazing, but I just can't…_

_You'll find the keys to the truck in your pack; you know the way back don't you?_

K.

Adrian sat on the edge of the bed, holding the note. Rubbing his head, he tried to make sense of the note. With a sigh of dejection, he crumpled it up and threw it across the room, instead choosing to dress.

Clothed and packed, he quietly slid into the corridor of the dormitory house. He past several of the town's people, who all smiled warmly at him. Several stopped him to ask about his time at the celebration the night before, and he could tell among the many who passed him, who had the better night, mainly by the way they clung to the walls for support.

Adrian began to wonder if he wasn't better off just making a place for himself here. But he quickly put it out of his head, a decision like that would have to wait until he knew more about himself.

The truck was parked near the entrance gate, and Adrian nodded to the guard posted by it. The man sized him up, then nodded his approval. As Shephard opened the front door and stepped up into the cab, the man stopped him.

"You tell that General of yours we're all rootin' for him." Shephard didn't know how to respond, but he nodded politely and shut the door. The gate was summarily opened for him, and he began his quiet, lonely trek back 'home'.

X X X

The reverse engineered Combine scout bike came to a quiet stop as Katya parked it in the garage of the south entrance tunnel. Pulling off her goggles, she dropped her back on the floor, searching it for her pass ID. She stopped though, when she heard what sounded like the distinct noise of a scratchy radio.

And she knew exactly what made that kind of noise.

Her heart began to thump rapidly, and her eyes searched the small garage, looking for the source of the sound. The only lit part of the small maintenance entrance was the locker room at the back. The door was left ajar, light from the inside shining through.

She looked to her left, at the door leading to the corridor that would take her to central hub. If there really was a Combine presence in the base, they would already taken control of it. Making a risky calculation, she inched her way closer to the locker room, careful not to let her heavy boots give her away. As she neared it, the heavy silence was once again broken by the crackle of a Metrocop's radio. She froze in mid-step and stared at the open door, but it was again silent.

Gathering her breath, and her courage, she came closer, till she was close enough to look through the slit, and into the next room.

She had to cover her mouth to keep from gasping.

Two Metrocops held her father between the two of them, his face bloodied and broken. They all faced the other end of the locker room, but Katya couldn't see who they were facing.

"Where is the remnant?" The mechanical crackle asked her father.

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about." Her father grunted. "Why do you insist on asking me?"

The strike was fast, though not at all unexpected. A long, gloved hand darted out and struck him in the gut, bringing him to his knees.

"Because you insist on lying to me!" The voice responded over the coughing and groaning of her father. He coughed up blood, and the Metrocops struggled to bring him to his feet, to continue the interrogation. The form of the man doing the interrogation walked around her father, and Katya finally had a look at him.

She nearly gasped again, the white uniform of an Elite officer pasted by the slit in the doorway, his form nearly blending in with the white light. His single, red ocular sensor, though, gave him away, as well as his tall, black, Gestapo-like boots. He came up behind her father and pulled his head back his hair till it was close to the thing that produced that ugly voice of theirs.

"Your men specifically targeted that convoy in order to retrieve a prisoner of great importance. You obviously are as well, if not better, informed than myself." He pulled her father's hair tighter, eliciting a groan. "So what say you tell me what I want to know, and maybe I _wont_ kill you so slowly."

The threat maybe Katya gasp, and this time she couldn't hide it. The small sound registered on the Elite's sensory input and his head snapped to the door. The Metrocops, with their human-level sensory organs, hadn't registered the sound, and cocked their masked heads at their commanding officer.

The Elite let go of her father's head and motioned to one of the Metrocops. "Go check it out."

"Yessir." The Civil Protection officer left her father's side and ran for the door, kicking it open. But he was too late, Katya was already gone, desperately trying to find a way out of this mess.

So would it make you all feel better if I told you the PCV will be in the next chapter? Haha, ENJOY!


	28. Lives Revealed

_And when you wanted me  
I came to you  
And when you wanted someone else  
I withdrew  
And when you asked for light  
I set myself on fire  
And if I go away I know   
You'll find another slave_

_Cause now I'm free from what you want  
Now I'm free from what you need  
Now I'm free from what you are_

What You Are – Audioslave

Shephard's Story

-Lives Revealed-

The van came to a rolling stop inside the tunnel. Adrian waited patiently, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, for the large blast door to open, letting him inside. But nothing happened. He waited longer, his boredom eroding his mind. Finally when he had waited long enough, he sighed and opened the door. Hopping out, he strolled up to the large door and banged on it several times. No reverberation, it was too thick, not even blaring his car horn would get their attention. But someone should have been watching the security cameras, waiting for him to return.

Sighing, and writing off the indiscretion to several cases of hangover, Adrian walked out of the cave and back into the sunlight. He knew of a door several meters down the road that he could open with his pass ID. He walked down the middle of the dirt road, bordered on both sides by trees. His mind was centered on Katya and the night they had shared, and the reasons why she had left the note. Needless to say, their reunion would be strange.

Shephard's thoughts were broken by the sound of several tires digging into the dirt road. Straining to see down the long, winding trail, he could make out several shapes kicking up dust a kilometer or so down the road. Pulling a pair of binoculars out of his pack, he tried to get a better visual. What he saw terrified him.

APCs. Three or four of them hauling ass down the road. Adrian panicked, wondering how they could have found out their location. Without even thinking, he dove into the wooded area bordering the road, and kept low. The APCs passed his position without slowing in the slightest, heading for the east entrance of the base. Pulling his 9mm Beretta from his pack, he checked the action and tucked it in his waistband. He had to get to that small entrance and warn the rest of the group.

Or what if the Combine had already taken over the facility, he pondered. Shouldn't he cut his loses and run? He could still probably make it back to Claiborne by dark. He quickly threw that thought from his mind. These people had risked their lives to help him, and he finally had a chance to return the favor. Running through the forest on pure adrenaline, he searched the forest floor for the manhole-sized entrance to the base.

He had almost given up hope of finding it when he nearly tripped over the entrance. Swiping his card over the electronic reader, he was greeted with an approving chime, and heard the locks release. Pulling the cover up, he pulled his firearm out and quickly looked inside. Finding no one, he dropped in, his weapon pointed down the tunnel. Following it lead to a service corridor that ran parallel with, and connected to at several junctions, to the lower-most levels of the base. He could get to the surveillance room where Stanley _should_ have been and alert everyone from there.

The trek down the red light covered corridor was long and interminable, but finally came to one of the junctions. It led to a vent that brought fresh air down to the bowels of the facility. Old though they were, the vents could make a lot of noise if they were kicked out, which is what Adrian planned to do. Carefully waiting, checking to see if he could make out the sounds of the Combine's ubiquitous radio talk, he held his breath. Confident that nothing was in or near the corridor, he kicked the old vent grate out and dropped into the hall. Weapon drawn he struggled to look in both directions as quickly as he could.

Alleviated to find he was alone, or perhaps more worried that he was, he backtracked down the corridor in the direction he had come from, searching for the security station. He found it, though the door was wide open. Hesitant to look inside, he held his weapon out in front of him as he burst into the room.

He was greeted only by the half-dead form of Stanley. Slouched over the desk, in front of the bank of monitors, he looked as though he was dead. Sudden hiccups, though, and several low, almost inaudible groans, told otherwise. Adrian set his pistol on the table and went to the aid of the dying man.

"Hey… hey." He said pulling Stanley up. The man groaned louder this time, blood rushing out of a single bullet wound in his stomach. He hissed in pain, his eyes delirious with it.

"Adrian? Is that you?" He quietly whispered. "Jesus man, how did you make it down here without being caught?" Adrian sh'ed him and tried to add pressure to the wound, desperate to stop the bleeding.

"Don't talk man, save your strength, you're going to need it to walk out of here." Adrian tried to sound as convincing of Stanley's survival as he could, but he knew his words sounded hollow. Stanley tried to stand, but Shephard told him not to. "What happened?"

"Overwatch." Stanley coughed, red speckling the security monitors. "They… they were waiting for us…they knew where we were the whole time…" He coughed several more times, and Adrian could feel the blood seeping out of the wound faster, covering his hands. "I don't know where the others are, but…but the general, he had something he wanted to give you." He groaned and leaned forward on the desk. "Goddamnit, does it always have to hurt?"

Adrian ignored the question, ripping off a piece of his sweater, he used it to stop the bleeding, but it only turned the fabric a deep red. "Stanley, stay with me, stay with me buddy." Blood was beginning to seep out of his mouth.

"Its… its in my lab. Next floor up, I dunno if they found it yet…might still be there." He sighed, his eyes becoming fixed on the desk below.

Adrian shook him. "Stan?" His voice became louder, more frantic. "Stanley? Come man, don't leave me alone, don't die on me, man." Shephard was nearly sobbing. He brought his hands up to cover his face, but found them drenched in his friend's blood. He let out a moan of despair, and sank to the floor next to the dead man. He let out several weak sobs and wiped his hands on his pants, smearing the blood all over them. He thought of all the good people he'd met here. He prayed to whatever deity was left that they hadn't met this same fate. His mind was fixated on the thought of Katya. And the only motivation he had for picking himself up off the floor was the thought of her in similar circumstances.

His sorrow drained from him, replaced by a numb need to exact revenge, he reached for the pistol and unclicked the safety. Stanley had said there was something for him on the second floor; maybe it was something he could use.

He walked down the corridors with a confident stride, not caring who heard his clunky boot steps. His pistol drawn, he followed the stairway access up to the next floor and followed another corridor until he came upon the service garage that also doubled as Stanley's lab. His mind begged him to think rationally, and kept him from simply barging into the garage. He saw the open door and immediately tensed, assuming the next room was occupied by less than friendly forces.

Peeking his head into the room, he quickly withdrew it once he saw several CP's standing around a cart of equipment. Slowly looking back into the room, he watched them toss several insignificant looking parts onto a cart. Two collecting, one simply standing around the lab, looking inquisitively as one could with a mask covering their face could, at the random technological devices. The two officers collecting items finally stopped and one hopped onto a small pedestal next to the cart and activated it, pushing several buttons. Blue light flooding the undercarriage of the tram as it levitated off of the garage's floor. Maneuvering it with several toggles, he piloted it out the large blast door with the second CP following him. Once the door had shut behind them, Adrian locked his vision on the single unit left.

With it's back to the door, it gave Shephard the element of surprise. Silently slipping from the door across the room, careful to avoid the myriad of equipment, he made his way into the lab area. Crouching behind a table, he watched. The Metrocop toggled a few buttons and several of the screens lit up, casting an ethereal glow upon the silvery mask. With the unit's attention grabbed, Adrian slid up behind him and brought his arm around the officer's neck. The Metrocop grunted and struggled, but with his unaugmented limbs, he was only blessed with his human strength, and god had not been kind to him in that respect.

Where as he had derived strength and respect from the electrified rod, and always being accompanied by back up, the officer could only struggle as Shephard held his windpipe closed. Adrian himself was having a hard time. He couldn't remember murdering someone in cold blood like this, but it felt so natural. What kind of a monster was he? The officer kicked at the air as Adrian brought him down the floor, his struggling finally petering off into a still silence.

Letting the body slide to the floor, he stood up and surveyed the death he had caused. Suffocating the officer had seemed so normal, so natural; he could only assume that he had done it before. Maybe the dreams were right; maybe he had murdered all those people. He could feel tears welling up in his eyes, as he stood alone in the garage. But instinct told him that he shouldn't stick around, and he surveyed the room for what Stanley said the General had left him.

All the equipment Stanley had was lying strewn out over the garage floor, but along the sidewall was a long table. What caught Adrian's eye was the set of white fatigues that he had been found wearing. Still pressed and cleaned, courtesy of Katya, they must have been taken out of his room. They sat next to the protective vest he had also been found wearing. His hand slowed as it traced the black vest's surface. A small notebook lay next to the vest. Picking it up, he read the scribbled notes along the outer brackets of the lined pages, next to diagrams of the vest and its inner workings.

_Draws power from external and internal sources…human bioelectricity?_

Slight modifications, using same principles as with the scout bike, prove that vest can be successfully connected to portable Combine power reservoirs.

_Vest made of synthetic fabric/alloy…is this even in the periodic table?_

None of this made much sense to Adrian, but he knew this is what the general had left for him. Picking up the clothes, he felt drawn to them. He looked down at his own clothes, and saw the blood smeared on them. It would never wash out, like a bad memory that would never quite go away.

The clothes felt tight, yet flexible against his skin. As he buttoned up the top, he felt an odd sense of familiarity descend over him. The crispness of the pants and sleeves felt odd against his rough skin, which had grown accustomed to hand-me down post-apocalyptic attire. It felt strange wearing the clothes, though familiar, they spoke of a different time, of a different person that the one wearing them now. In the reflection of several of the blank computer monitors he saw himself, and the uniform suited him.

His attention was slowly drawn to the vest. It lay inert on the table, though it seemed to call out to him. It begged to be worn, just as the uniform had. Picking it up, Adrian stared it. The blackness seemed to radiate an intense presence, yet it also seemed to pull him towards it.

Slipping it on, he again felt the familiar sense of comfort, as if this had all happened before. He pulled the zipper up slowly, till it was securely fastened. His movements seemed to blur, as they did when he felt himself losing control. Yet this time there was no loss of control, there was no time lapse, and there were no dead enemies at his feet. This time there was only the vest and himself, in the bowels of the base. He felt at ease, as if by donning these two things he had become whole. He felt his fingers trace his chest, and they came to rest on the small keypad attached to a walkie-talkie.

His inquisitive nature got the best of him though, as he pondered their use.

_Hmm, I wonder what these are for_. He thought, pressing the middle digit.

Suddenly a pain so intense as to make his eyes water and his knees weak, stuck. He fell to the floor as the needles that ran up the spine of the vest dug into his back. Small needles injected even tinier machines into his bloodstream and spinal column, while miniscule wires wrapped themselves around vertebrae, making reports of bodily functions and calibrating morphine dosage.

Adrian heaved in and out, his breath short and full of stifled hiccups of pain. His hand gripped the table so hard it hurt. In the corners of his eyes he could see small green flashes of information. Health monitors, EKGs, weapon inventory and ammo calculations, communications, and armor updates. He tried to blink them away but they wouldn't leave. His grip on the table became so intense it began to bend the metal material, leaving a noticeable handprint that no normal human could leave.

_What the hell was happening to him?_

His breathing didn't slow, as the nanites traveled throughout his bloodstream, collecting data and relaying it back to the spinal cord, which then transferred the message to the vest.

"_Now the first time you wear it, you may feel a bit… uncomfortable…"_ A voice called out to him. He tried to take notice of where it came from over the pain wracking his body. It slowly faded into oblivion though, as his mind fell into the darkness along with it.

X X X

The sunlight burned his skin, but Shephard didn't care. He forced himself up from the floor and ran outside to the sound of gunfire.

"Sergeant!" His head snapped in the direction of the calling voice, only to be greeted by the sneering face of Major Aldrich. "Bag yourself a skinny?" Filled with rage Adrian brought the butt of his rifle against the major's face. The men fell to the sand, though not so much hurt as surprised.

He was immediately on his feet. "You just made a big mistake." He growled in anger, brandishing his ubiquitous Colt Anaconda.

Shephard brought his rifle up, his fear gone. "No! It's you who's made the mistake!" He looked around at the chaos surrounding them, and motioned with the barrel of his rifle. "Tell them to cease fire!"

The major pulled back the hammer of the revolver, chambering one of the deadly .44 magnum rounds. "You're not in command, son."

"These people are innocent! This is _murder_." His emotion was evident as his voice cracked.

The major seemed to take notice, and in a surprising move lowered his weapon. "That's not what the books will say though, son. It's the victors who write the history." His vision narrowed on a point behind Shephard, nodding. Confused, Adrian looked behind himself just in time to see another one of the marines bring his rifle butt down on him. The blow was so forceful, Adrian was unconscious before he hit the ground.

The blackness that followed only brightened slightly as Adrian watched himself being lead into a small room, with several men in dress uniform looking at him oddly across a small table. He was then sat down in a seat across from them by two MP's, his hands tied in plastic restraints.

One of the officers nodded to the MP's, who left the room promptly. The officer on the left pulled a small manila folder out in front of them on the desk and open it, flipping though it. Shephard could see himself open his mouth to speak, but the well-dressed officer beat him to it.

"You love the Corp., don't you son?" Shephard refused to answer and the man went on as if he had anyways. "You need to understand, that attack was not sanctioned by anyone _but_ Major Aldrich. He has been stripped of his rank and dishonorably discharged." He pulled out several photos of the dead and laid them out on the table.

The second officer, nearly identical to the first, finally spoke. "If word were to get out about this, it would be another My Lai." Adrian couldn't look at the pictures, and turned his head away. "Your testimony against the Major is what has lead to the truth, and we are grateful for that, but the Corp. must ask you for one more thing, your silence."

The first officer picked up the photos and shuffled them back into the folder, putting it back into the briefcase. "In exchange for your silence we are prepared to offer you a transfer to the Hazardous Environment Combat Unit." He pulled out a second folder with Adrian's military photo paper clipped to the front. "I do remember reading that you had applied for the 501st several times, but were subsequently denied." He laid the file on the table. "We can make it happen, in exchange for your oath that you will keep what happened a secret."

_A civil servant, like yourself, understands the importance of… discretion._

Adrian was silent for a long time. "We cannot promise that if you choose not to take the offer, that you will be able to return to civilian life." One of them sad quietly, obviously alluding to a life spent in a military prison. Leaning across the table, Adrian grabbed the file and pulled it towards him.

"So where do I sign?" The officers seemed visibly relieved.

"No where, this never happened." Then dark room seemed to finally slip back into the blackness that had spawned it.

Shephard could feel himself relax in the void, as if floating down a river on his back, savoring the sweet feeling of simply floating. The pain that had arced up and down his back seemed like a dim memory and he brought a pair gloved hands up to rub out the sleeping drawing close to his eyes.

But suddenly the silence was split by the piercing scream of something utterly inhuman. The blackness was ripped apart, its virgin calm was shattered by a burst of light.

Monsters, horrible monsters, incredibly vicious, and with a taste for blood., walking corpses, slouching down the hallways where they once walked to confidently. He could feel the memories flooding back. The plane ride in, the strange circumstances of the mission…

His boots felt hard concrete as he fell to the floor. Spas 12 shotgun clattering to the floor infront of him, he looked up and could only see the shapes of monsters creeping along the walls of the forsaken research facility. Their shadows flickered with the malfunctioning fluorescent lights. He picked up the shotgun and felt his heart pound in his chest with every shell that he pumped into the darkness as he ran back.

An elevator, bright like the end of a long dark tunnel, stood at the end of the hallway. The darkness seemed to follow him, lights flickering and eventually burning out completely as he ran down the seemingly interminable hallway. The shadows of the creatures seem to claw their way out of the darkness, shapes of claws and tentacles reaching out of the shadows and into the light, followed by the same gruesome inhuman howls.

His weapon never needed reloading, but none of his shots seemed to penetrate the darkness that slowly gained on him. His turned slightly to see how much progress he had made and ended up backing up against the glass doors of the elevator. Turning around he pounded on the door to open, but it gave him nothing.

"What?!" He exclaimed upon seeing who occupied the elevator. "George? Mike? _Jackson?_" His three comrades pounded back against the glass as well, trying to allow their friend passage inside. But the elevator lurched and began to move up, up and out of the facility. He could see Jackson mouthing something. "What? What is it? Don't leave me!" He looked behind himself for a split second to see the darkness almost upon him. Jackson screamed at the top of his lungs and Adrian finally made out the word.

_Nuke_

A green light enveloped him and he was back on the Osprey, across from that business-suited devil. All the memories, of Ravenholm and the base infirmary came flooding back to him. He knew how this conversation would go.

But he was wrong on that account.

_You needed to sssee the wounds that the master's whip had caussssed with virgin eyes. You needed to see what is at sssstake._ _What so many had already given their lives over. _Visions of the decrepit City 17 flashed before his eyes, and the merciless Combine and their invasion. Adrian fell to his knees and brought his hands to his eyes, trying to tear the images from his eyes. He cried out and looked up at the mysterious figure with utter hatred.

_What do you want from me?_

The man looked down and the way the light fell upon his face obscured it for a moment, but when it came back into the light it was not the same face, but that of Major Aldrich's. Shephard blinked, and it was gone, replaced by the same placid, pale face.

_I cannot ssssay, you will be ssshown. But until then…wake up…_ He brought his hand down on the Corporal's shoulder, and Adrian could feel himself begin to fall.

He felt as though he had fallen back into his body. Gripping the table as tightly as he had before, Adrian slowed his breathing. He felt a renewed sense of self. He could remember who he was. He wasn't a mass murderer; he was a soldier of the United State's Marine Corp.

Picking himself up, he felt the power of the suit make his every movement lighter. Reaching down he made to grab the metrocop's pistol, but his hand was stopped. Lying next to it was a red wrench. Though not out of place in the garage, he was sure it hadn't been there before. Picking it up and handling it deftly, memories of it flooded him and he smiled.

His name was Corporal Adrian Shephard.


	29. Everything You See Here

_In this farewell,  
There's no blood,  
There's no alibi.  
'Cause I've drawn regret,  
From the truth,  
Of a thousand lies._

_So let mercy come,  
And wash away…_

_What I've Done.  
I'll face myself,  
To cross out what I've become.  
Erase myself,  
And let go of what I've done._

What I've Done – Linkin Park

Shephard's Story

-Everything You See Here-

Adrian clicked the wrench to his belt, the weapon acquisition noted on the heads up display in the corner of his eye. Checking the Match he had salvaged from the dead Metrocop, he holstered it and readied his 9mm berretta. He wobbled slightly, his head still cloudy from the revelation. All the forgotten memories had been unlocked and the wealth of information, only available to him before in his out-of-body like experiences, were now his to access and use at will. Close quarter combat techniques, weapon statistics and specifications, but most importantly, friends he had known.

Tower, Wilkes, and Jackson 

The three names echoed like the remnants of an interrupted dream. The three men who had been his comrades, his friends, and he had no clue where the hell they were. Could they still be alive? He checked the action on the Match and a single bullet flew out of the receiver. Grabbing it he tucked it in his pocket, promising whatever happened, as soon as he got out of here, he'd find out what had become of his friends.

Luckily Stanley had many of the security cameras wired to be visible from the lab. Adrian's fingers flew across the several keyboards littering the desktop. Images flashed across the screens; rooms and warehouses, empty. His fingers stopped though, when they came upon a large room with several cylinders of fuel lining the walls, and lines of vehicles next to them, eager to refuel, yet no one to do so. But behind the last row of cars he could see the outlines of several people.

_Sasha_. Adrian thought. Combine soldiers had a small group of people, Slick, Yuri, and Sasha, tied up and on their knees. A single Combine, dressed in white walked from person to person, kneeling down to be eye level with them, then moving on to the next person. Adrian looked at the bottom left hand corner and saw that the room was one more level up. He flicked through several more channels before he saw the form of Ivan, tied to a chair, bloodied and bruised. Two Combine soldiers stood outside the room, brandishing submachine guns and shotguns. That storeroom wasn't far from where he was now, and even closer to the arms locker.

_But what about Katya?_ His mind nagged at him. He flicked through several more channels and could tell if he was relieved or worried that he couldn't find her. Cursing and switching off the computer console, he picked up his berretta and headed off to see if he couldn't free Ivan.

His boots made too much noise to run, so Adrian had to move slower than he liked. Traversing the hallways as quickly as he could, he came to the small junction. To his right would be the storeroom, but he knew if he even tried to peak around the corner, the keen-eyed soldiers would spot him, and open fire. Sliding down against the wall, just around the corner from the Combine, he exhaled silently, trying to think up a plan. He tilted his head to the ceiling, as if asking for advice from on high.

Coincidently he was greeted with just such a plan.

The two soldiers stood at attention near the storeroom containing the anti-citizen. Elite Unit Alpha 12 had worked him over, without much success. For soldiers with little emotion left, they were surprised how much pain a single human could tolerate. He didn't scream, he didn't beg, he just sat that, as if it was all an old hat to him. The only time he had shown any sign of giving in was when he simply passed out from the pain.

Down the hallway a door slammed and the soldiers were immediately on task.

The one in the left nodded to his partner. "Check it out."

"Roger." He replied and readied his submachine gun. Running up to the corner, he steadied himself and let his weapon lead himself around the corner. The corridor was empty save for the door hanging open. His enhanced senses listened intently for any kind of motion, but failed to find any. Nearing the door, he peered inside, only to find an empty room, littered with miscellaneous junk.

"Status report." His comrade radioed in. The soldier stepped out of the room and back into the hall, tapping into his radio.

"Nothing. Suggest sweep of adjoining halls."

"Affirmative." Adrian exhaled and thanked the gods for his break in luck. Letting himself fall from the jungle of pipes that ran along the ceiling of the hallway he let his legs wrap around the soldier's helmet, as quickly as he could, he sharply twisted his body, and heard the audible crack of a neck, and the soldier dropped without a sound. Letting go of the piping, Adrian fell to the ground silently and dragged the dead soldier into the small room. He picked up the submachine gun and checked its mag, which was full.

Whipping around the corner, Shephard let loose a rain of hot lead on the soldier at the end of the hallway. The augmented human dodged the volley, but just barely. Rolling to the side, he found cover behind one of the corner and let his shotgun do the talking for him, spraying the hallway with a barrage of pellets. Shephard continued to fire, trying to distract the soldier and keep it behind the corner as he ran down the hallway.

With split second decision-making he leapt and pulled the trigger of the machine gun as he flew past the soldier position, spraying him with bullets. The soldier shook as several of the bullets dug holes into his armor, a few penetrating. Falling over, he let off one more blast, which caught Shephard square in the chest and sent him sprawling.

His head hit the concrete wall as he landed near the unguarded door. Adrenaline fueling him, he jumped up and felt for the hole that the close quarter shotgun blast must have ripped into him. But he could find nothing; his vest absorbed the blast, leaving only several small dents that already were smoothing themselves out.

Slamming the door open, Adrian fell to his knees next to Ivan, trying to untie his restraints. The man barely even looked up, blood still streaming down his face. "They…" He hoarsely coughed. Adrian stopped him.

"It's okay, I know." Ivan shrugged off the plastic ties and stood up, wiping some of the blood from his face.

"Katya." He began and Shephard's head snapped in his direction. "Did she return with you?"

Shephard shook his head, but was slightly relieved that she wasn't here when it all went to hell, maybe she was still alive somewhere, hiding out. "Who the hell did this? How did they find us out?"

Ivan sneered. "Aaron, that rat. He made a deal with Overwatch, I'm sure of it." He bent down and picked up his shirt and ammo harness laying on the floor. "You took care of all the guards?" His voice was thick with disbelief.

Shephard took the Match out of its holster and handed it to Ivan. "There were only two of them." Ivan stood still for a moment, not bothering to reach for the weapon.

"There were three." Both of them turned to the closed door and could hear footsteps outside it.

The warble and scratching of a Combine radio broke the silence. "Affirmative both units are KIA." The voice was right outside the door. Adrian leaned up against it, his ear to the cold metal.

"Is the anti-citizen still in custody?" 

He heard the Soldier make his way to the door and the felt the cold metal begin to give as it opened it. Using all his augmented strength, Adrian shoved the door open, sending the soldier sprawling. It's gun clattered on the floor, skidding several feet away. Adrian was on top of it before it could reach for the submachine gun, kicking it out of the way, and training his gun on the soldier, ready to click off several rounds.

"No don't." He heard Ivan croak. Shephard didn't let his eyes stray from the soldier, so lay perfectly still. He felt Ivan's hand on his shoulder, and he stepped back. Ivan kicked the weapon down the hall and stared at the Combine. "Get up." The soldier didn't move a muscle. "Get up!" Ivan screamed.

"Ivan…" Adrian began, completely confused.

"You saw what they did to Stanley, to the rest of the crew. I want him to pay…I want him to feel." The Combine soldier slowly stood up, its blue eyes boring holes into both men. In a flash Ivan brought his booted foot up and struck the Overwatch soldier square in the chest, sending him crashing against a wall.

"Ivan what the hell, lets just get out of here!" Ivan turned to Adrian, his eyes ablaze.

"I have to do this… for me. Go, the others need you, save them before its too late." He shrugged off the ammo harness and readied himself in a defensive posture. The soldier did the same, and Adrian wondered who had the better chance. "Go!" Ivan shouted, breaking Shephard from his reverie.

Turning, Adrian left the two to duel, running as fast as he could so the ammo lockers.

X X X

The hallway was empty, and the large weapon storage room loomed ahead. His finger constantly on the trigger of the MP7, he peered around each corner with paranoid vigor, wondering if each turn would be his last. Images of Black Mesa and the horrors it had thrown at him, constantly assaulted him. He wondered how many had survived, if _anyone_ had survived that horrible mess.

And how it had all come to this.

He had traversed that god-forsaken facility in the hopes of getting out alive. Eventually he came to the realization he wouldn't make it out alive. With that thought in mind, his objectives turned from getting out unscathed, to stopping the invasion before it could leak out into the rest of the world.

He thought he'd accomplished that.

But it seems that the nuclear blast had only been the opening to the sad symphony that human affairs had become. Rounding the last corner, he found himself next to the weapons locker and quietly surveyed the area for anyone who shouldn't be there. Quickly he swiped his access card across the scanner and the door chimed in approval, sliding up. Adrian jumped inside and quickly closed the door behind him.

He turned, only to meet the business end of an M4 carbine. It shook nervously in its wielder's hands.

"Adrian?" That angelic voice called out. His eyes adjusting to the dim red emergency lights, Adrian found he was sharing a room with the one person he had been searching for.

"Jesus…Katya?!" He saw the barrel of the rifle drop and he moved in to hug her. She held him tightly, her sobs hiccupping into his shoulder.

"Father… you, you haven't seen him, have you?" Adrian nodded. "They're in the fuel depot. Last time I saw them, they were okay."

"All of them?" She looked up at him. Adrian turned away from her stare, not wanting to admit the truth. "What?"

"Stanley…he…they…" She quietly nodded her head. "Ivan said Aaron was responsible."

Katya shook herself away from his embrace, the happy reunion now fading. "I'm sure he did. And as soon as we get out of this mess, we're going to find him, and we're gonna…" She brought her hands to her face as if she wanted to tare it off. Adrian brought a hand to her shoulder but she shrugged it off, instead moving to the side and grabbing several magazines of ammo and shoving them into her harness. "Get something with more grunt than that MP7."

Adrian looked around the room, and his eyes rested on the SPAS 12 shotgun lying on the shop table. It seemed to attract him with an almost gravitational force; he was so drawn to it. Picking it up, he pumped it once, ejecting a spent cartridge. It felt almost like an extension of his body. Gathering a bandolier of shells and shoving several into slots on his vest, he turned to have Katya shove an M24 sniper rifle in his already overburdened arms.

"Take this. You're better with it than I am." Slinging it behind his back and loading the shotgun with shells he couldn't help but look at Katya.

"You knew." He didn't have to say anything more to be specific.

Katya didn't return his gaze as she grabbed a nine-millimeter from its storage case and slipped into a holster. "Yes, I knew."

"Why didn't you say anything?" She pulled her M4 out and laid it on the shop table, pulling an M203 attachment for it and clicking it into place.

"I didn't know how to. How do you tell someone they're missing nearly two decades of time?" She finally turned to him, but he eyes fixed on the floor. "How would you have reacted? I couldn't risk you leav…" But she stopped herself. "I couldn't risk you freaking out."

Adrian stepped forward, knowing that wasn't the truth. "I had a right to know. I had a right to figure out who I was." His voice was slightly more forceful, and sharper than he had intended. Katya looked at him, her eyes red with the promise of tears. But she held them back and turned to the rifle, slipping a contact grenade into it, and slipping two more into her harness.

Picking up the rifle, she checked the action and motioned for the door. "We don't have time for this shit, okay?"

Shephard nodded. "But as soon as this is over, there's a few things we need to talk about."

Katya nodded curtly. "Agreed. Now you got your game face on?"

Shephard allowed himself a smile. "Nope, but Stella does." He said, lifting the shotgun.

X X X

It didn't take them long to make their way to the fuel depot, one level up. Peering around the corner, Adrian saw two Metrocops guarding the large hydraulic door. He turned to Katya and pointed to his eyes and brought up two fingers, signaling how many he saw. Katya nodded and dropped her rifle and ammo harness to the floor.

Her hands above her head, she walked out into the hallway, signaling her surrender. The Metrocops were instantly on top of her, stun batons brandished. "Oh god, please don't kill me!" Katya moaned in fake fright. The Metrocops, only feet away from the corner where Adrian was hiding behind slapped restraints on her, one was about ready to radio in their acquisition when Shephard dove out from behind the corner, red wrench raised high.

The first officer took it straight in the face and fell to the side, completely unconscious. The other went for his pistol, but Katya kicked him in the gut, knocking the pistol to the floor.

"Move, you die." Adrian said, his nine-millimeter poking the side of the officer's helmet. Metrocops were only human, and were just as susceptible to intimidation. The CP didn't move, nor did he use his radio, and Adrian took him harshly by the arm. Turning to Katya he motioned for her to go to the next level up. "Take the high ground and gimme some cover if I need it." She nodded and sprinted for the stairs. "Now, as for you…" He said, turning his attention back to the nameless Metrocop. "…we're gonna take a little walk."

X X X

The large black boot made an audible crunching sound as it buried itself in Yuri's chin, sending him falling backwards from his kneeling position. Spitting out blood, he struggled to make it back to his feet.

"Maybe we really _don't_ know where the fuck this Shephard guy is." Sasha spat at the feet of the Elite. The Combine stood still for a moment, looking at Sasha through his red lens. Without turning, he pulled his Colt Anaconda from its holster and shot Slick in the thigh. The woman screamed and doubled over, blood flowing from the fresh wound.

"Lies! All Lies!" He said pointing the weapon at Sasha. "Why are you protecting him? He has done nothing but bring you misery!"

"I don't know him!" Sasha screamed out, saliva dripping from his beaten face.

"Maybe this will refresh your memory!" The Elite motioned to the soldiers standing near the rear door. One left the room and came back in, followed by a figure silhouetted in the dim light.

"It had to come down to this, didn't it Sasha?" The general spit in the figure's direction.

"You dirty bastard, Aaron, you sold us out!" The American sneered smugly.

"No, you sold yourself out, and the rest of the team, with the delusion that you could keep under the radar, that you could make your gun runs, and do it all without Overwatch ever getting wind. Well I wasn't about to let you drag me down with you. You knew all along it would come to this. Just give him the kid, and maybe Katya will live…"

"Don't you _dare_ speak her name! You don't deserve to be called human, you traitor!"

The Elite finally interrupted the touching reunion. "Well it seems like you've proved your usefulness." He said turning to Aaron. "It seems I have my end of the bargain to fulfill."

Sneering Aaron turned to him. "Yeah you do, I want to be on the next train west." The elite nodded curtly and motioned to the soldier nearest to Aaron, to came up behind him and restrained him. His eyes widened and his sneer left his face. "What the fuck is going on?"

"I'm just having this officer escort you to the next train west… to Nova Prospekt." Aaron's eyes searched the room frantically, the very name of that hellhole stirring up imagines of stalkers and lonely prison cells, and electroshock therapy.

"No! God no!" He struggled uselessly against the soldier's superior strength. "I wont be one of those things! I wont be a stalker!" But the elite had nothing more to say and the soldier lead Aaron out the door, his screams carrying all the way back to the fuel depot.

Sasha looked on, his contempt almost replaced by pity.

Almost.

"Now we've established that you _do_ know the whereabouts of subject name Shephard..." The Elite began.

"What do you want with him?" Sasha said, struggling to his feet, coming face to face with his interrogator. "You know, don't you?"

The Elite grabbed Sasha by the collar and brought him closer, almost whispering. "You see this?" He said pointing around the room. "All of it will burn, all of it will be _nothing_, if you don't tell me where he is."

Sasha laughed hoarsely, his blood spraying the white of his helmet. "You're afraid, aren't you? You're afraid of what he is."

Shoving an elbow into Sasha's abdomen, and the man fell the ground. He brought the gun to Sasha's temple and spoke softly. "Everything you see here… this is only the beginning. You will fall, the Resistance will fall, _humanity_ will fall."

But he was interrupted when the entrance suddenly wheeled open, and Adrian, Metrocop in tow, slowly walked into the room. Everyone stared on in amazement as Shephard slowly slid his hostage between him and the Combine elite, accompanied by three soldiers, all armed with mean looking rifles, trained quite obviously on himself.

The white armor clad Overwatch officer cocked his head in utter amazement. "Interesting." He brought his weapon up and pulled the trigger, blowing a hole in Slick's head, ending her moaning. He then trained it on Adrian. "We were just speaking of you."

Shephard looked at the inert corpse of Slick, the rage building inside of him. "He dies!" He said pushing the barrel of his pistol into the Metrocops neck. "Let them g…"

But his sentence was brought to a quick end as the Colt Anaconda ripped a hole through the plastic helmet of the Metrocop. The body slid to the floor, as unmoving as Slick.

"You can see what the value of my own men's lives are, you really think I'd be willing to a sacrifice an arrest for one of them?" Shephard listened to the distorted voice as his eyes kept a steady watch on the firearm. It looked so familiar, and though the voice was distorted, the speech pattern tugged at something deep inside him.

"You…monster." He quietly whispered.

"I'm no monster, I just have the drive to do what needs to be done. Something you never had!" His trigger finger tightened, and the Elite had to see past his flickering emotions of hatred to keep from shooting.

It clicked, and Adrian began to remember. "Aldrich…you son of a bitch. They turned you."

The anger inside him grew bigger, and the Elite struggled to see past it. "They didn't _turn_ me. I willingly chose to join the Overwatch. It's something bigger, and greater than you or I could ever hope to be." He let his distorted voice crack slightly before letting the emotion fade. "Now, drop your weapons, I've been ordered to take you into custody and transport you to nearest reeducation facility…"

"Like hell you are!" Adrian raised his shotgun.

"We've been here before, haven't we? Weapons drawn, only you remember what happened last time, don't let history repeat itself again Shephard." He lowered his firearm, but instead of holstering it, he brought it to rest upon Sasha, and pulled the trigger. The bullet caught him in the gut, and Sasha was pushed backwards by the force. "You drop your weapons, he lives! You haven't got much time, Adrian!" Sasha coughed up blood on the floor, his body writhing in pain. Adrian looked back and forth between the general and the Combine elite, his shotgun slowly lowering.

"Father no!" He heard up behind him, and everyone turned to see Katya, kneeling on the catwalk above, her rifle leaning against the railing for support. But it wasn't aiming at any particular soldier, but at the fuel tanks behind them.

"Shit she's gonna blow the gas…" But the M4 had already fired, and it piercing the tanks, creating an awesome explosion that sent the group flying. Adrian rebounded quickly and looked to Sasha and Yuri. The Combine soldiers had been incinerated, being in such close proximity to the blast, and Aldrich was sprawled across the floor, his armor badly burned.

Checking Yuri's vitals, he was grief stricken to find the medic dead. Turning to Sasha, he saw he was still barely breathing, and picked him up, his augmented muscles making the task easier, and sprinted for the door. Jumping inside, he hit the control console, shutting it. Pulling out his shotgun, he blasted the console, rendering it locked and useless.

Laying Sasha down against the wall, he saw Katya run down the stairs out of the corner of his eye.

Patting Sasha on the cheek, he tried to keep him coherent. "Sasha, come on man, you gotta keep goin'. We'll get you to the infirmary." Katya fell to her knees next to her father, her eyes thick with tears.

"Daddy please, please don't leave me. Oh god please stay." Sasha's eyes wandered slightly, finally focusing and falling on his daughter.

"My…baby girl…" Adrian moved to pick up Sasha.

"We need to get you out of here." But Sasha cried out and begged him to let go.

"No…no don't. Just listen, listen to me." He coughed, sending spatters of blood falling to the floor. His hands reached into his jumpsuit, fumbling, but finally returning with a small flash drive for a computer. "This… take this to… you uncle Dmitri." He said looking to Katya.

Her red eyes widened. "Uncle Dmitri? He's still alive?"

"Dmitri Destovaya is alive?!" Adrian couldn't believe it. The quiet, somber man who had been his colonel for so many months was still alive in the midst of the occupation. The thought filled him with hope that many of his comrades might have been spared the horrible fate of Black Mesa's nuclear holocaust.

"There's a man, in St. Olga's, he… he knows how to get in contact with him. Please, I love you honey, but you…you need to leave me…" Katya gripped her father's jumpsuit tighter.

"Never!" But the hydraulic doors behind them began to move, slowly. The Combine would soon be through.

"You have to…" He looked to Adrian. "Take care of her. Take care of yourself." His tired hand rested on Adrian's arm. Shephard grabbed Katya and ripped her away from her father.

"We need to go!" The hydraulics of the doors hissed against the soldiers' efforts on the other side and cracked open.

"No!" She scrambled for her father, whose face was wet with tears as he watched his daughter and their only hope make their way down the hall, and hopefully freedom.

X X X

The hallways rushed by them as they made their way deeper into the facility, near where Adrian had come in. Once Katya had finally stopped screaming, she became nearly catatonic, though still functioning. She led them down to the maintenance garage without saying a word. They passed the weapons locker, but didn't stop. Only when they passed the corridor where he had freed Ivan did they slow.

One dead body near the door that Adrian had taken care of himself, but there was no sign of either another Combine body or Ivan.

"He should be here." Adrian observed, but Katya didn't reply. She raised her rifle and turned a corner, only to rush right back. She signaled him to be quiet.

The crackle of a Combine radio hissed in the silence. "Alpha 12 reports two subjects still at large. Orders are to contain and exterminate."

"What about this one?" Adrian peered around the corner and saw the limp form of Ivan, laying on the ground, his breathing shallow.

"How many units were lost to him?"

"Delta 5 was terminated. Delta 9 was incapacitated while subduing him." The other soldier was quiet for a moment.

"Cauterize the infection." Katya knew what that meant and whipped around the corner and knelt on one knee, spraying the corridor with lead. The officers fell and the two ran to Ivan's side.

Sure enough, he wasn't breathing. Katya knelt down next to him, and lifted his face up, looking into his motionless, dead eyes. She didn't shed a tear, she had none left. She closed his eyes, and cradled his head in her arms before dropping him almost like a rag doll and leading the way to the garage.

"What the hell are we going to do?" Adrian queried as they ran into the large garage. Katya ran to the large blast door and swiped her keycard over it. The door shuddered and slowly opened. Katya jumped on the reconfigured scout bike and motioned for Adrian to follow her. He could hear the frantic steps of half a dozen combine issued boots running down the hallway to meet them. "I hope you know what you're doing." He grunted, leaping onto the bike as she revved the engine and the blue light flickered on and the anti-gravity drive lifted the bike into the air. With a twist of her wrist, the bike sped out of the garage, as the Combine poured in, pulse rifles lobbing blue death in their wake.

The outside burst into view, the sky above a clear black, the stars peering out, and a full moon lighting the forest floor below them. The trees flew by and Adrian shuddered against the wind-chill, as he clung to Katya.

"Watch our back! They're gonna come after us!" He heard Katya yell. Looking back, he found she was right. Two APCs were following them down the forested road. As they closed on their position, Metrocops poked their heads into the covered canopies containing the mounted weapons, and aimed for the escaping anti-citizens.

"We've got a couple of tail-gaiters!" He cried. Katya looked in the handlebar mirror and cursed. Blue plasma erupted from the mounted lasers and ripped craters in the dirt road behind them.

"Hold on!" She gave Shephard little warning as she hung a sharp left and disappeared into the brush. He twisted his head to avoid being hit by several branches as they cruised into the dark forest, the ghostly blue light their only source of illumination. "Did we lose them?" Adrian looked back and saw that they weren't totally alone.

Two sets of blue lights were following them in the deep forest. As they neared, Adrian could make out the forms of several similar bikes following them. Pulling his pistol from its holster, he fired off several crude shots. One of the bikes neared them close enough for Adrian to see two soldiers riding it. One drove while the other tried to correct for the bumpy terrain as he tried to aim for the pair next to them. He let off several bursts, none of which hit them.

Slowing his breathing and taking his time to aim, Adrian let off two quick shots. One hit the soldier in the shoulder, which caused him lower his head just enough for the second round to catch him right in the left eye. The soldier doubled over and his comrade shrugged him off the bike.

The two bikes, followed closely by the third, fell off a small hill and into a relatively deep ditch. The third bike traveled along the high ledge, letting off bursts of plasma, as the other bike was moved to within arms reach of Adrian and Katya. The scout saw his chance and moved to ram the two. He shoved his bike next to Adrian and Katya, hoping to push them into the dirt. Adrian reached out and grabbed the soldier, landing several punches before pulling him off and letting him tumble out of sight, his bike crashing against a tree limb.

He turned back to look at the other bike above them as Katya shouted something, and Adrian turned to her. He turned just in time to see her dip for a low tree that had fallen across the ditch. He ducked and felt the tree brush across his head.

The ditch finally leveled out and the trees began to thin and Adrian peered ahead to see what was beyond the forest.

"That's the cliff! Slow down Katya! Slow down!" He cried out. But Katya only revved the engine harder, pushing them forward. Blue bursts of plasma peppered the trees around them as the bike behind them followed closely. Shephard had to trust Katya as he reached back and popped off several rounds, hoping to merely distract their pursuers.

Finally the trees cleared, and Adrian was more than surprised to find the ground ending only meters from the end of the forest. He opened his mouth to yell as Katya screamed at him to hold on. Her thumb flipped open the finger guard keeping anyone from touching that big red button Slick had warned them about.

_No!_ He tried to shout, but it was too late, she was going to do it.

Her thumb depressed the button and the blue light flickered to green for a moment, before the force hit them. The bike rocketed off the cliff face like a missile. Adrian looked back and saw the second bike try to stop as it came to cliff, but fail miserably, and fall down the cliff, exploding on the rocks below. Their bike sailed through the air, and Shephard felt almost as though he was floating back in the void, before he felt gravity begin to pull them back down, and they fell hard onto the ground on the opposite side of the ravine. The bike skidded to a stop and Katya clicked it off.

Shephard collected himself, and finally spoke. "So where now?"

Katya, still in a state of shock, took several seconds to reply. "First, we need to warn Claiborne, they'll have no clue what's coming. Then… well then we head to St. Olga, on the coast."

**A/N: I'll give a nice shiny penny to the first person who can tell me what I'm referencing when I say St. Olga!**


	30. Claiborne

_Instrumental_

Dead Reckoning – Clint Mansell

Shephard's Story

-Claiborne-

The bike whirled across the bleak landscape of the forgotten highway, the blue light from its anti-gravity drive their only illumination on the deserted stretch of land. Katya hadn't said anything since she outlined their itinerary. They would first make a run to Claiborne, since she was sure Aaron had given the Combine their location, then onto the Coastal road, Highway 17 she said it had been dubbed, and meet up with the informant who could get them in contact with Dmitri Destovaya.

That name brought back so many memories, and Adrian nearly shed a tear at the fact that he could remember them as though they had happened yesterday.

He could feel the cool air rushing through the cabin door as they rode on the Ospreys, their destination and mission a complete mystery. He saw his commanding officer pacing back and forth between the cockpit and the loading bay, nervously stroking his rifle. He could even see his friends he had so long been separated from.

Wilkes, sitting next to him, was checking his pistol. _"Jackson, you know those things will kill you."_

He could see Jackson, sitting across from him; smoke billowing out of his nostrils as he cracked a wry smile. _"Kid when you been in this line of work as long as I have, you begin to pray that it's_ these_ that kill you."_

And, of course, George Tower, the introspective one. _"Hey Shephard, what d'ya think the brass got set for us this time?"_ Adrian considered him one of his only friends, and the best among the three. He hoped that they had all been spared the fiery end Black Mesa had met.

The bike's rapid deceleration brought him back to reality as they neared the entrance of the small mountainside village.

"Oh my gods." He heard Katya gasp. Smoke billowed from behind the village walls, and not a sound, save the crackling of the fires, was there to greet them. They road through the broken gate and surveyed the surroundings, noting that they couldn't find a single body. Evidence of a struggle was more than apparent; it was everywhere, yet no bodies were there to accompany the blood spattered against most of the ground.

Parking the in the alleyway between two burned out buildings, the two unpacked their weapons and dismounted.

"Overwatch must have…" Katya trailed off, looking on in awe at the degree of destruction around them.

Adrian held Stella closely to him, like a security blanket, and looked around the corners for anything less than friendly. "Where the hell is everyone?"

They passed through the square where just last night they had celebrated their small victory. Adrian looked sadly at the remnants of the wooden bench where he and Sasha had exchanged some of their last words. Wherever there was blood, usually it was accompanied by pockmarks left by some unidentifiable substance, almost like an acid burn. Adrian bent down and stuck a gloved finger into one of the still smoldering craters. It stung slightly, but he guessed it had been sitting there for several hours, and had had time to dissipate.

Just what the hell had happened here?

The thumping of footsteps above them on the second floor of the adjacent building caused both Shephard and Katya to crouch and raise their weapons. They knelt that way for several seconds before relaxing. Shephard nodded and Katya trained her weapon on the door as she moved towards it. Standing to one side, she surveyed one side of the room, then quickly moved and checked the other side.

Nothing.

She signaled Adrian to move in. He maneuvered around her and crept inside, Stella drawn at the darkness, his M24 hanging off of his back. His eye flickered and read his internal diagnostic that ran across the upper portion of his vision. There weren't any active radio signals in the area. His eyes scanned the room, noting the only other entrance a door leading in a back hallway at the far end. He brought his hand up and signaled to Katya, who crept in after him, her weapon trained on the door at the end of the room. It had been silent for such a long time, the two were beginning to think they might just be alone.

Several thumps in the small hallway caused them both to nervously train their weapons on it. Adrian maneuvered to one side of the door, while Katya cracked it open for him. Peering through the slit, Adrian couldn't see anything down one side of the hallway. He nodded to Katya, who quickly pulled the door open while Shephard swung around and readied himself to open fire.

"Oh god, don't kill me!" The tired, ragged man threw up his bloodied hands. Adrian's trigger finger flicked to the side, afraid a rogue twitch might set it off. The man recognized that Adrian wasn't who he thought he was and let his hands fall to the side as his tired body slumped against the wall. "Oh… oh thank the lord, I…I," He stuttered. "I thought you were Overwatch, or…or one of _them_."

Katya appeared behind Adrian, her M4 hanging at her side. "Cremators…"

"What the hell?" He looked at her.

She didn't bother returning the gaze. "They're dispatched to clean up any of the organic 'mess' left behind by Overwatch combat situations. They're…less than human, they've been transformed far beyond anything the Overwatch does to their soldiers." She walked forward and helped the men to his feet. "When did they leave?"

The man couldn't be asked to return her look. "They showed up about two hours ago. One of them looked pretty beat up, like someone'd given him a good thrashing. He…" Tears began to well up in his eyes. "They took out most of our defenses, killed the guards. They said it would all be over if we'd hand over the _anticitizens…_"

Katya looked at Adrian. "They must have been looking for us…"

The man didn't make the connection, too busy lost in his own horrible recollection. "When Pyotr told him to take a long walk off a short pier, he went crazy. Rounded everyone up in the town square and he…and he." The tears were flowing more freely now. "He shot them! He shot all of them! Women… even the few young ones!" He brought his hands up as if to wipe the tears, but the blood they were soaked with sickened him and he dejectedly threw them to the side. "Then the cremators cleaned up the mess…"

"They must have just left."

"I was hiding upstairs in a wardrobe when it happened, I… I watched from the window, but no one saw me… when I didn't hear anything, I assumed they had left." Katya turned to Adrian.

Adrian could feel his pulse quicken. "No military unit leaves an enemy stronghold without placing some kind of sentries to recon…" They both turned in unison to look out the adjacent window and were met by the shining red lens of a scanner.

Click click click 

The window exploded in a dazzling flash as the scanner took their picture, most likely reporting to the nearest Overwatch Nexus.

"Shit!" Katya let her rifle buck as the window shattered and the scanner exploded outside. "Overwatch'll be here any minute."

"We need to hide!" The old man screamed in utter terror, oblivious to the other two as he ran down the hallway and out the back. Adrian looked to Katya who shrugged.

"He'd know better than we would." Adrian nodded and followed the frantic man. They flew out the back of the building and into the fading light. They exited out into a small backyard, sparsely furnished with several rotting wooden chairs and a table to match. The man was awkwardly crawling over a small, dead hedge and into a back alley as Adrian and Katya caught up to him.

"We need to hide! We need to hide!" He breathlessly continued to mutter to himself, to the point of hysteria. The alley was narrow, with one end opening up into the main square, and the other into an as-of-yet unexplored part of town. Over head Adrian could hear the loud droning of an aerial alarm as a dropship flew over the tiny slice of sky created by the hedge and the adjacent building. This only added to the man's fright and he doubled his speed down the narrow passage. Adrian took up the rear as soon as Katya had climbed over the hedge way. She looked back at him, towards the open end with the plaza. The dust was being kicked up.

"That'll be our company." She said pointing. Adrian looked back and saw several figures fan out in the middle of the dusk-lit courtyard. The trio sprinted down the ally and into the light of the street ahead.

The frightened man dove into the nearest building, an old storefront, the windows broken and shattered. He awkwardly climbed over the jagged pieces as fast as he could, hap-hazardly cutting himself. Katya was right behind him, and drove through the window, tucking and rolling onto the floor. Adrian copied her move and came up unscathed. He turned to watch if they'd been followed.

"Look!" Katya called, pointing out of the storefront. A scanner had followed them down the alleyway, it's red eye trained on their escape route in a purposeful manner, rather than the lazy, nonchalant way it's programming usually commanded it. Adrian brought his shotgun up and pumped off a round, the blast and subsequent pump of the stock becoming quite reassuring.

The scanner exploded in a ball of electrical flames, it's pieces flying this way and that. Adrian turned and saw the man flying into the back room, throwing open a large wooden door in the floor. Katya was right behind him though, and caught him by the collar.

"Where the hell does this go?" She asked sternly, but the man was barely able to recognize her inquiry, he was so hysterical. Katya shook him, repeating her question.

"An old passage! The monks at the monastery of St. Olga used it as a thoroughfare from the coastal church to here, it goes right through the mountains!" He ripped free of her grasp and sped off down the set of stairs. Adrian took up position near the front window, but slightly out of sight. Overwatch would most likely follow them to their last known location. He was right; because no sooner had he blown up the scanner did the familiar feminine voice of the Overwatch dispatcher cut into the silence of the streets.

"_Incursion warning: Airwatch reports probable anticitizen Shephard reacquired. Zone: Outlands. Ground units hold for override codes." _There was a pause as Adrian was sure the correct orders were distributed. Katya looked at him and motioned to the trap door.

"_Report, anticitizens detected within this block. Diagnosis: contain only, command requires live extraction." _The soldiers were somewhere down the street now, their boot steps growing nearer. Katya pointed to the door with more intensity now, but Adrian waved her over to him.

"We need to go. _Now_." She emphasized.

"If we leave now. They'll know where to look, they'll find the trap door and follow us down, and how do we know the passage is still traversable? The guy might be wrong, the passage might have collapsed years ago." The boots were growing nearer, but Katya was beginning to see his point. "We need to distract them, then we can either grab the bike, or loop around and try the passage. Either way, we can't leave now." Katya nodded. "Now I'm gonna need you to give me some cover, okay? Then I want you to follow me across the street and into that building." He pointed out and a solid, brick building across the way.

"_Coming up on last known location, keep tight."_ The voice was right outside. Adrian didn't take the time to see if Katya understood. Reaching for his two pistols, he felt the synthetic adrenaline begin to course through his veins as the tension in his muscles alerted the vest that it was time to act. Diving out the front window, Adrian's hearing was muffled as he brought his pistols around to fire on the on-coming group of soldiers. Flanking out four abreast across the street, the soldiers, clad in their gray armor, were slow to act as Shephard dove out in front of them.

"_Contact…!"_ One of the soldiers cried, but he was quickly silenced as Shephard's pistols barked in reply. The first several bullets blew out the back of one soldier's helmet. Almost immediately the dusty ground around him was peppered with submachine gun fire. Adrian rolled out of the way just in time for Katya to poke her head out the front of the store and let off several well aimed shots.

One soldier caught a high caliber round in the knee. He groaned, but fell to one knee, his aim faltering only slightly. Adrian was up on his feet in an instant, the adrenaline flowing freely now. He crossed the street, his pistols jerking violently in his hands. One of their bullets clipped him in the abdomen, causing his to spasm slightly, but he kept his balance, the suit's charge depleted only slightly. One of his shots caught a soldier in the arm, causing him to drop his MP7. Katya poked her head out again and finished off the soldier who had been kneeling, while the soldier who had lost use of his arm pulled his USP Match from it's holster and trained it on Adrian as he scrambled across the street to cover. The pistol jumped in his hand as the bullets chipped away plaster and pecked at the dust around the escaping figure.

Adrian slammed into the wall at the other side of the street and fell to his knees, dropping one of the pistols, it's slide open, revealing an empty magazine, he took careful aim. He tapped the trigger twice in succession, and then lifted the aim slightly and pulled off one last round, the slide staying open, empty. The bullets hit the soldier almost simultaneously. Two shots struck him in the chest, causing him to jerk back, and the third shot caught him in the head, just above the left glowing blue eye.

"_Shit, outbreak, outbreak!"_ He heard the last soldier cry as he took aim on Shephard's still form. He pulled the trigger and several of the bullets punched Adrian in the chest, shoving him against the wall. He grimaced and felt his left thigh, his fingers coming back bloody. He could hear Katya cry as she jumped out of the window and surprised the soldier, butting him in the head with the rifle and finishing the job, as he lay inert on the ground.

"Oh gods, Adrian, are you okay?" She said, kneeling next to him. He slid up against the wall, pressing against the wound. His hand was red with his blood, his vision, squinting against the pain, flickered to the corner of his eye, and saw the small information bar, almost humorously similar to an old news tracker at the bottom of a television screen, display the amounts of disinfectants, coagulants, and morphine to the wound. At the end of all the medical jargon, the only words that mattered were _injury stabilized._

"Yeah." He huffed with pain, motioning for her to help him up. "I'll be okay." Katya stared at him oddly, amazed at such a quick recovery. Adrian turned to the brick building and began limping towards it, one arm around Katya for support.

With his good arm he held his pistol out in front of him as Katya opened the door and he swung inside, checking for anyone hiding within. The room was quiet, dust floating in the stale air. Adrian leaned up against the closed door and quickly reloaded his pistols, holstering them. Katya handed him his shotgun, and slapped a fresh clip into her M4.

"What now?" She looked at him questioningly. Adrian looked at her but took a second to respond. It was in a house like this, only the night before, that they had shared something. Now she barely talked to him, save what had to be done. He wanted to hold her, wanted to tell her it would be alright, but he knew she wasn't in that state of mind. He sighed thoroughly before answering.

"I'm not sure, it really depends on how many hostiles there are, and if they've found the bike." Katya nodded and shouldered her rifle. Adrian led them out the back of the building into the maze of alleyways. They took the silence that accompanied them with a grain of salt, Overwatch we're trained well in the art of warfare. Every turn, every corner was a disaster waiting to happen, every intersection an ambush in disguise.

Finally, as they drew nearer to where the bike had been parked, Adrian could hear the warble of radios and the two froze. Kneeling down underneath a window in the narrow alleyway Adrian craned his neck to listen to the conversation inside the building next to them.

"_You deliberately disobeyed my orders, commander." _An angry voice scolded. It was human, untouched by the Overwatch enhancements; it surprisingly seemed to belong to an older man. _"An what's worse, you've requisitioned critical personnel when they're required to contain the threat posed by anti-citizen one!"_

There was a pause. "Sir, you mean to say that anti-citizen Freeman has yet to be apprehended by Civil Protection?"

Adrian's blood ran cold and his vision narrowed. All sounds seemed to drown out as his ears began to ring. He nearly dropped his weapon as Katya reached over and tugged on him slightly, bringing back to reality.

_Freeman?_ He thought. _He's alive?_

The ringing in his ears suddenly gave way. _"…course not you idiot. He's slipped away at every opportunity. He's managed to leave the city limits, if you can believe that. He's gaining support, as well, and the fact that you've got have a division of augmentation force delta is unacceptable."_

"But sir, we've taken possession of their vehicle. Subject Shephard has…" Adrian recognized the gargled voice. It was Aldrich. Apparently he'd survived the explosion.

"_Shephard is irrelevant." The voice interrupted. "You are a soldier of the Transhuman arm of the Sector Seventeen Overwatch, and you've disobeyed a direct order from a superior. I don't care what kind of personal vendetta you have against this _man." He stressed the word. "_In any other case you would be sent straight to Nova Prospekt."_

The voice was silent for a moment. And Adrian reckoned that Aldrich was shaking with fear at the thought of being sent to such an awful fate.

"_But, being what you are, a hybrid instead of a fully augmented soldier, you're intelligence affords you certain traits that a regular soldier doesn't possess. You were allowed to keep your personality because Overwatch deemed it useful to the cause. I'm not one to second guess the overseerers, so in this case they have decided to let you continue to exist, provided your performance from this point on is nothing short of exemplary."_

"I understand, sir."

"_You better. If I had any say, I would have you sent to the farthest system to babysit a miserable rock for all eternity." _The man spat.

Adrian felt a slight tug on his fatigues and he jerked his head in Katya's direction. She pointed back in the direction they had come. "If they've got the bike, we'll need to take the mountain pass." Adrian nodded and followed her slow crawl away from the window, the voices becoming quickly obscured.

X X X

Adrian, sniper rifle in hand, quickly opened the small trap door at the back of the store while Katya covered him. It creaked open with almost horror movie-esque squealing. All they could see below was darkness; Katya pulled a small pen light out of her front vest and shone it down in the dank hole.

"Well I guess by now you'd be used to jumping into holes, wouldn't you?" She quipped without humor. Adrian returned the emotionless gesture.

"You have no idea." He slung the rifle behind his back and brought Stella to bare. "Well, as they say, ladies first."

Katya sneered slightly and flicked the light on the side of her rifle on as she ducked down and into the crevasse.

X X X

"_Now, as it turns out, your current position is the closest to a known rebel settlement as any of our forces currently in the area." _The Elite nodded in reply, knowing only full compliance was going to get him another shot at Shephard. Aldrich nearly seethed as his gloved hands ran over his charred and slightly deformed suit. The explosion had damaged him, but hadn't incapacitated him, nothing that the medic drones couldn't patch up, but it had left enough of a dent that his neural link with Overwatch had been deemed irreparable in the field. He would have to report to the Citadel for reevaluation once this mess was over. _"I'm sending you the coordinates as we speak."_ At the bottom of the screen numbers and letters streamed by, a satellite uplink transferring the necessary data. _"We have reason to believe that he may be, or will possibly, seek shelter there. Take your men and raise the settlement. Leave no trace it ever existed."_

The Elite nodded, and the old man sneered. "Affirmative, sir."

The aging face of Administrator Wallace flickered and disappeared, leaving Aldrich alone in the small, dilapidated room. The small portable communications unit powered down as the staccato beat of boots entering the room brought the half man, half machine from his reverie.

"Sir." Aldrich turned to find a lone Metrocop saluting him. "We've swept the area, and there doesn't seem to be any trace of the anti-citizens."

Aldrich slammed his fist on the table. They had found the bike the two had escaped on, they had photographic evidence they were here, where the hell could they have disappeared? The Metrocop jumped slightly at the display of emotion from a soldier wearing the white, albeit burned, fatigues of a Combine Elite. Aldrich turned to the officer and waived him off.

"Assemble the rest of the force, we've been redeployed to these coordinates." He said, ejecting a small disk from the coms unit and handing it to the officer.

"Affirmative sir, but we still have bio-disposal units in the underground passage cleaning up…" The officer didn't want to think of all the bodies that had been dumped into the underground passage, seeming to lead nowhere, that were now being tended to by the 'cremators'.

"They aren't mission sensitive. Leave them." Aldrich said closing up the small communications device.

"But sir…" The officer began.

"Unless you want to go down there and retrieve them yourself, since the shortwave wont transmit though all that blasted rock, we're leaving without them." Aldrich snapped. The Metrocop certainly didn't want to have anything to do with those _things_ and decided to let the matter drop.

Swiftly saluting, he turned and walked away, leaving the battered commander to his thoughts.

A distorted sigh emanating from his destroyed vocal cords punctuated the silence. He would have Shephard; he would make him pay for the years of humiliation and agony. He had spent his remaining years before the invasion in a federal prison, and for what? For defending his country? His fist met the table again, splintering the dry wood. He grabbed his pulse rifle and made his way out the door and into the noisy central plaza.

Dropships circled the perimeter, finally settling and kicking up dust. Grey-fatigued soldiers, standing stolidly, the only way they knew how, finally began to orderly board the transports.

Aldrich turned to the ruins of the small village and sighed one last time, Shephard had won this day, but that victory would be short lived.

X X X

A/N: So I bet there's going to be a lot of "Well about freaking time!" on the part of many of my faithfully amazing readers, lol so I'll do a little explaining. Yes I had writers block, yes it took me a really super long freaking time to get this chapter now, no this story will never be dead, how could it be? It's one of the most reviewed pieces in the Half-life section. I want to see it through to the end, I want to see the characters interact and follow the Half-Life saga as far as I goes (or until Valve decides to step up and bring back our favourite fatigued hero!). The next chapter will not take as long, I promise you.

I've been sad, though, at the lack of updating from some of my favourite pieces, such at the Novelization of Half-Life by Super Chocolate Bear, or They Hunger by Roger the Shubber! I was truly inspired, though, to get off my ass and finish this by EdCrabs update of Malign Contingency though, with his chapter all about Shephard, so you should all read and review that!

So, if Super Chocolate Bear or Roger the Shubber are reading this, please! Please! Keep this section alive with premium material!

Thanks to all of you who have taken the time to read this and made it was it is, it really is _your_ story.

-Blind

PS. Has anyone read "In the Midst of the Uprising"? It's a little dark, I know, but I was just dabbling with something different! Some reviews on what you think of that will tell me if I should try writing more stories with a darker twist.


	31. Cremators

_All around me are familiar faces  
Worn out places, worn out faces  
Bright and early for their daily races  
Going nowhere, going nowhere  
Their tears are filling up their glasses  
No expression, no expression  
Hide my head I want to drown my sorrow  
No tomorrow, no tomorrow  
And I find it kind of funny  
I find it kind of sad  
The dreams in which I'm dying  
Are the best I've ever had  
I find it hard to tell you  
I find it hard to take  
When people run in circles  
It's a very, very  
Mad World  
Mad world…_

_Mad World – Tears for Fears_

-Shephard's Story-

-Cremators-

Adrian's boots hit the jagged rocks as he fell through the small hole, and he struggled to keep from falling forward, hands first. He felt Katya's steadying hands before he saw the narrow beam of light from her barrel-mounted flashlight.

"Thanks." He head it echo down the dark shaft. Katya didn't reply, her usual whit drowning in the darkness that had enveloped them. The beam of light began to bounce as she led them down the hall.

Adrian silently wished he had use of his night vision goggles, as they stumbled down the old route. His USMC-approved gas mask had been fitted with night vision capability. It had been light years ahead of its time; where as Special Forces groups of even a few years before them had relied on clunky, cumbersome headgear to give them vision at night, the lenses on the gas mask had been modified in such a way that they absorbed what little light could be found. But wishful thinking did them little good as they felt their way down the passage.

What was it that man had said to Aldrich? Freeman was still _alive_? He mind began to buzz as his memories swirled past him. The botched mission briefing they had received before their V-22 Osprey had been blown out of the sky, he had found out later their mission, among other… more unsavory objectives, had been to eliminate the man thought to be the root of the problem. That bastard had been the cause of it all, the cause of all of _this_.

Yet at the back of his mind, something nagged unrelentingly.

"_Freeman? Savior? Went to cut the invasion off at it's source?"_ The words swam, convoluted, through his subconscious. His grip on the shotgun grew tighter, and his teeth ground together. He had lost almost twenty years of his life to that bastard.

But that wasn't the reason he was so angry. The real reason he was so angry, he was keeping even from himself. He didn't want to believe that Freeman's sabotage had cost him the lives of his closest friends. He _couldn't_ believe it.

He had been so deep in thought that he walked right into Katya's stationary form. He shook his head and looked over her shoulder, about to say something.

"Did you hear that?" She motioned by pointing to her ear, craning her head to the left, looking at him in the corner of her vision. Adrian looked ahead of them, noticing the passage had widened considerably. He didn't dare answer her verbally, it might reverberate off the walls.

But there it was again, the slight crackling sound. Like slowly dieing embers, the pop-pop sound of a dwindling fire could be heard in the distance.

Side-stepping Katya, Adrian brought the muzzle of his weapon up infront of him, leading the way. The passage angled slightly downward now, still widening. As they drew nearer to the source of the sound, Adrian's nose came in contact with the foulest of smells. He wrinkled his nose, and peered behind him to see Katya had noticed it too, her eyes narrowing in disgust.

The two crept forward, nearly a small orange glow towards the center of their path. It cast an eerie glow on the dark cavern walls. Adrian nearly tripped as his foot came down, not on hard rock, but on a soft, yielding substance. He stepped back searched the ground, seeing nothing but darkness. Katya trained her rifle's beam of light on the floor and both of them gasped.

The half-charred remains of a human form, it's skin blackened beyond recognition, its gender indiscernible, stared back up at them. Its lips had been burned off and it's teeth grinned up at them sickeningly. Adrian had to struggle to take his gaze off the horrible sight so that he could survey the rest of the passage. The flashlight splashed onto the ground near the corpse, revealing a heap of bodies, in different stages of decay. Many had been burned, most were merely piles of bones, still smoking, while there were still piles of partly smoldering bodies.

"My gods…" He heard Katya whisper, but in the silence it was deafening. They crept forward, revealing more of the atrocity. Bodies were piled upon bodies, their burning corpses casting the eerie glow they had been following. Katya knelt down and sifted through a pile of decaying clothing, pulling a small form out of the heap. In the light of her torch, she found the limp form of a stuffed bunny rabbit, hand made, button-eyes and all. Half of it was burned, while the other side seemed unscathed, almost clean. Katya had to through it back on the ground, tears welling up in here eyes as the sound of children's voices, so rarely heard, whispered in the back of her mind.

"This must be where they took the bodies…" Adrian said, turning to her, focusing on her face, instead of the bodies. Katya could see the pain in his eyes, and she nodded.

"Those _bastards_." She hissed. Adrian could only sympathize with her. What kind of monsters would kill _children?_

But before he could ponder any further, a sickening thought entered his mind. "Wait… if they drug the bodies down here, there could still be somebody left…" Katya registered the idea and her ears perked up, suddenly all too aware of their surroundings, and the fact their conversation must have echoed far down the passage.

Adrian bent down and sniffed some of the smoldering clothing. It had the same acrid smell as the substance they had seen topside, in town. "This is the same stuff we saw before… Cremators?"

Katya bent down and inspected for herself. "Yeah…" She quivered at the thought. "Come on, let's get out of here." She whispered. Adrian had to agree with her, this place was going to give him nightmares for sure…

_If I ever sleep again._ He thought to himself, he felt like he hadn't slept in days, and the constant rush of adrenaline was starting to fry his system, a human body could only take so much. His suit sensed his fatigue and slowly began feeding him more stims, desperately trying to keep it's user alert.

They followed the path until they came to a junction with several possible routes. The area was littered with mining equipment, covered in spider webs and rusted almost beyond recognition. Katya shook her head as if to say, _Well what the hell now?_ Adrian could only shake his head in reply.

A snarl interrupted their muted conversation and Adrian swung his weapon to the left, pointing it into darkness. Katya wasn't far behind him, training her weapon on the blackness.

Nothing.

Adrian didn't relax at all, and he slowly swiveled his aim in a 180-degree arc. In the darkness to his left he could barely make out to small, distant points of greenish light. He squinted, trying to discern them, and how far away them were.

Only to realize that the _distant_ points of light were all too close. They bobbed up and down with the beat of a large pair of boots. Katya swung her weapon in the same direction just in time for Adrian to catch a glimpse of a large, trench-coated figure bound towards them. It was huge, it's miss-shaped gray head nearly scraped the cavern's roof, it's eerie, pupil-less green eyes barring down on them as it lunged in for the kill.

But Adrian's nanites kicked in and his reaction snapped into gear as he brought Stella up to compensate for the creatures jump. He pulled the trigger all the way back, ejecting two shells, which caught the creature in the mid-section. It slammed into the cavern wall and crumpled into a pile, the light in it's green eyes flickering and slowly fading.

Adrian's ears were pounding, and he could barely make out Katya's yelling. This must have been one of those dreaded "Cremator" creatures Katya seemed so scared off.

"Christ!" He could hear her shout. "We need to go… now!" She was right, that shotgun blast would sound like a bomb in these cramped quarters. If there was anyone else down here, they had definitely heard them.

"Which way?!" Adrian yelled back. Katya's flashlight danced dizzyingly across the three openings.

"I don't know, I don't know!" She called back. There must have been some kind of marker, to help the monks who had originally used this passage, find their way back. Pumping the shotgun, ejecting a spent, red shell, he handed it to Katya, trading her for her rifle. He pointed it at the partitions separating the routes, searching for something, anything.

There it was. Next to the left-most passage was a small cross, carved into the cavern wall. It had to be their pointer, leading them to "salvation".

And none too soon; snarling, though farther off, could be heard coming from one of the other openings. That thing had friends, and they were on their way to meet them.

"Come on!" Adrian said, pulling Katya after him, as he sprinted down the corridor. His flashlight bounced crazily off the walls as they struggled over the slippery terrain. The snarling and growling grew louder behind them, threatening to over-taken them.

The passage widened again, and they were now greeted by two possible routes.

"Shit!" Katya growled. No time to look for the marker. Adrian threw Katya behind him and swiveled around, kneeling, training his gun on the grunts that followed them.

The flashlight caught the jogging forms of the Cremators. These ones, though, weren't unarmed. In their arms they cradled large black flame-thrower type objects, probably what they used to dispose the bodies with. Adrian didn't take the time to think about it as he pulled off several bursts of fire.

The lead assailant went down, several holes above it's left eye. His corpse was roughly pushed aside, though, as the others, with their single-mindedness, ran forth, unperturbed. Shephard's ears were beginning to ring as he let loose another flurry of lead, taking down another one. He felt a hand pull at him though.

"There's too many!" Katya yelled. Adrian couldn't tell how many there were, a lot probably. And he felt the weapon grow lighter, as the clip grew smaller. He turned and scanned the walls of the cavern, finding the next marker and led them down the appropriate passage.

Had they been taking a more leisurely pace, Adrian and Katya might have noticed how it angled sharply downward. But in their haste to escape neither of them noticed until they were sliding down the slippery passage. Adrian smacked his head on the hard rock and felt him bump into Katya as they came to rest on a more level part of the tunnel. He didn't even have a chance to recover before he felt several large forms slide into him. The cremators must have misjudged the terrain as well. The rifle had skid out of his reach, so he didn't even have the luxury of being able to see his enemy.

The gruesome snarling from his enemy alerted Adrian's keen ears to his enemy's position. Crawling around in the dark, he felt for the fumbling body of the Cremator. The form was struggling to get up, but Shephard crawled ontop of the creature, landing punches, and taking several himself.

The Cremator groaned as Adrian landed a punch into soft, yielding flesh. The head, he surmised, as he reached to his belt. He hadn't had time to unsling the high-powered rifle he had strapped to his back, so he reached for his 9mm pistol and quickly pulled it from his holster and jammed the weapon into the creatures face.

The reports filled the cavern as Adrian emptied nearly the whole clip into the Cremators face. The shrieks and groans fell short as the hot lead ripped through brain matter and windpipes with equal force. His heart beating several thousand miles an hour, Adrian felt the pistol click empty, and the struggling form beneath him cease to fidget.

Hoping he had earned them a small respite, he was shocked when he felt a large form deliberately slam into him, sending him sprawling into the rock wall. His head connected with an audible crack, and the world around Adrian flickered slightly. He could hear Katya scream, and saw the light from the rifle crisscross the cavern as Katya searched for their lone assailant. Adrian struggled to remain conscious as he saw her flashlight trained on the looming form of the Cremator. It strode deliberately toward them, it's weapon held at the ready. It leveled it on Katya, but wasn't quick enough as she let off a quick three round burst.

The monstrosity caught all three shots in the chest. It staggered backward, letting out an inhuman screech, but remained standing. Adrian reached for his pistol, but it was empty. And to his horror, he heard Katya's rifle click empty as well. The Cremator snarled victoriously and his weapon lit up as green, smoking liquid flew out of it. Katya dodged the acid spay, but the splash back hit Adrian, who could do little more than yelp in protest. In the haze of pain he could see Katya pull open the receiver of the M203 grenade launcher and slide a contact grenade inside.

"No!" Was all Shephard could yell before the Cremator was turned into an explosive mess. There was no more than several seconds of jubilation before the cavern began to rumble, and Adrian felt rocks and debris fall from the ceiling, sealing his fate.

X X X

The sea lapped at the base of the cliffs over and over again, as it had done for centuries, as it would do until the Combine had finally drained every last drop of precious water from Earth's oceans. The cliffs overlooked the small coastal settlement of St. Olga, a small fishing village that had grown around a peninsula that jutted out from the coast, topped by an ancient monastery. It was a wonder it had survived the War, as it had been considered unsafe to live in even at the turn of the 21st century. Before control of the planet had been wrested from human hands there had been an extensive renovation program in effect.

The Overwatch sniper cared little for these details as he peered through the scope of his rifle, surveying the settlement. Him, as well as half a dozen other well trained snipers from augmentation force Delta, had been sent ahead of the rest of the division to gather intel and assess the Rebel's threat level.

Laying among the tall grass that clung to the bluff above the cliffs, the sniper adjusted the range on his scope, zooming in on a pair of individuals, the directed audio feed attached to his scope let him in on the seemingly private conversation.

The two men stood near the entrance to the town. One brandished an old rifle, the wood of the stock discoloured with age, while the other cradled a Remington 870 shotgun. Both seemed bored, and little interested in their assigned duty, guarding the entrance to town. Years with barely any outside contact had them growing soft. "What'd you reckon this Freeman guy doesn't even exist, and it's all just a ruse to get the rebellion started?" The one with the rifle mused to his comrade.

"That's crazy talk, my brother told me Leon radioed him from the Train Depot and said he was on his way down the coast! Leon wouldn't talk shit like that unless it was true." The other guard responded.

"I don't know… why now? It's been so long…" The man sounded desperate, the experiences of the last war-torn two decades weighing heavily on him.

"Yeah, well dun look a gift horse in the mouth, I say." The man said as he leaned back in his chair. "Hey did you hear about the couple they pulled out of them mines? They say theys blasted the passage back to Claiborne."

"Probably for the best, I heard it got hit pretty hard by Overwatch. Must be refugees."

The shotgun-carrying guard puffed his cheeks out and narrowed his eyes. "I didn't think we was one for takin' in 'Fugees."

"Yeah, well Terrance said the boy was pretty banged up, what was he supposed to do? Leave him down there to die? Plus, he said the woman was packing some heavy duty ordinance." He lowered his eyes to his own weapon disapprovingly.

The soldier didn't bother recording, he knew that another unit had the responsibility for that. His scope drifted across the small village. The streets were mostly empty, save several unarmed civilians marching to and from random buildings.

Scanning the old monastery, the sniper found it was more or less vacant of human life. The building stood high on top of the cliffs that rose steadily from the coast, and into the sea. It didn't take a tactical genius to see the tactical advantage in using such a place as a base of fire.

Setting his rifle on safe and stowing it, the officer radioed the rest of his squad. He ordered three of them to stay put, and the others to join him while they reported back to division.

X X X

The soft blue holographic display mimicked the terrain of the settlement with terrific accuracy, leaving no detail untouched. The inside of the drop ship had been hollowed out to serve as a mobile command center, and the walls were awash with the bluish hue punctuated only by the shadows of two officers.

The Elite leaned over the console projecting the display and studied it intently as the recon soldier reported the rebel's strength.

"The settlement is lightly guarded." He said pointing to the entrance to the village as well as four look out towers along the perimeter. They immediately turned from the soft blue to a menacing red, completely contrasting their surroundings. "Armament has been reported to be weak to moderate, with shift changes made at regular intervals."

Aldrich nodded his approval. "It has been observed that the building overlooking the objective is not currently garrisoned." The hologram of the settlement suddenly fell away like sand caught in the wind, as a model of the monastery took its place. Several areas, most prominently the tall spire, were coloured a soothing green to highlight their importance. "Suggest that incursion hardpoints be erected and suppression weapons be mounted to take out hostiles from long range."

Finally, Aldrich spoke. "Anti-citizen one?"

"Contact hasn't been made, but recon suggests subject is enroute." The officer tapped several commands into the console and the model of the monastery model fell away wistfully, like that of the settlement, to be replaced by a vertical map of the coast, with several adjoining areas coloured red, and another adjoining set green. "Reports have come in that Anti-citizen Freeman has taken several outposts offline, units have yet to respond." Aldrich felt a wave of annoyance spread over him, he knew this Freeman character was good, but it would have seemed that Overwatch had massively underestimated the scope of his training.

Aldrich took control of the console and brought back the model of the monastery, highlighting the spire only. "I want exogen containers with accompanying launcher installed here." He said making the spire flash. "Detach squads alpha through echo to hold the position, should we meet with any resistance. Set up incursion hardpoints and begin firing procedures." The officer saluted and walked out the small command room.

Aldrich grunted and looked over the plan again. The headcrab launchers would turn the city into another Ravenholm, and when Freeman finally arrived, he'd have to contend with both the biotics, as well as Aldrich's own forces.

And once he had Freeman, he'd be able to make a bargain of his own with the Citadel's advisors. He'd have Shephard, even if he had to slaughter a thousand Freemans.

X X X

Before Adrian was even fully conscious, he knew that he needed to stop waking up this way. His whole body ached, but he'd become more or less used to waking up as such. His muscles twitched as feeling returned to them. His eyes fluttered open and adjusted to the darkness. He froze and studied his surroundings. Finding he wasn't laying on the cold, cavernous floor, or the cool blue metal of a combine prison cell, he relaxed slightly, and let a groan escape his lips.

"Oh, you're awake." He heard a calm, female voice call out from the dark. Shephard brought a gloved hand to rub his thumping temple. "Sorry about back in the cave…"

Adrian pulled himself up on the cot and looked over to the side of his cot, seeing Katya in the middle of cleaning her rifle. "Christ, next time could you do me a favor and not blow the crap out of the tunnel we're trapped in?" He thought he could see a hint of a smile cross her face before she replied.

"Well I didn't hear any complaining from you at the time." She set the rifle back on the table and stood up from her chair.

"Yeah, well I'm sure you couldn't hear me over the sound of the explosion!" Katya helped him up to a sitting position on the cot.

"Oh quit it, Adrian, you're fine… relatively so." Shephard felt the back of his head and could feel several bandages. His upper left arm also had a tunicate wrapped around it. "The locals fished us out of the cavern and patched you up. I told them not to mess with your vest, besides it looks like it did most of the work before their medics could even touch you." Adrian unwrapped the tunicate on his arm; only a dull mark where the acid had splashed him remained.

"So what's the deal? Were you able to get in touch with our contact?" Katya shook her head and walked out the room, Adrian took his time getting to his feet, and followed her out onto the small balcony. It overlooked the street the small house was set on. Over the rooftops he could see the ocean, and heard it lapping at the shores. Further out he could see the looming form of a building set high atop the peninsula.

"We're gonna meet with someone who can help us tomorrow, right now they've got too much on their hands. They say that Gordon Freeman's making his way up the coast. He's making a stop here for weapons and supplies, before continuing on." That name again, Adrian thought. He gripped the railing of the balcony and let out a sigh. Katya looked at him. "What is it?"

"You mind explaining to me why the one man who got us into this fucking mess is being hailed as a hero?" Adrian spat, all those missing years that would have been filled with hate and retribution creeping back. "You're all treating that bastard like he's a leader."

He could hear Katya gasp, and he turned to her before she could reply. "You want to know where I was before everything went down? I was dispatched to Black Mesa." Katya couldn't have looked more surprised. "I was there to see what he'd caused, what his meddling and sabotage had wrought." He took a step towards her and she visible shrunk. "I saw my best friends die at the hands of those… creatures, those things he'd let through."

"But it wasn't like that…" But Adrian cut her off.

"Don't try and sell me any bullshit, Katya. He let them through, and my unit was sent in to clean up his mess." His eyes fell to the floor. "I had plenty of good friends that died there, doesn't that mean anything? They died for the sins of those who caused that catastrophe, yet he's hailed like the fucking messiah!" Nearly exhausted from his tirade, Adrian leaned back against the balcony.

_Jackson, Tower, Wilkes, did you survive?_

"Adrian…" Katya tugged at his consciousness. "Adrian, Freeman didn't cause it. Wallace Breen let them through; the administrator of Black Mesa orchestrated it to gain control of the planet. Freeman did his best to stave off the invasion." Adrian looked up, his eyes narrowed in disbelief.

"You don't know…" But this time Katya cut him off.

"Yes we _do_ know, Adrian. The science team that survived the catastrophe has been working since the War to fight back against the Combine. We're all in this together, we don't have time to point fingers."

"There were good people I knew, people who shouldn't have died at Black Mesa." Shephard nearly whispered. Katya leaned forward and lightly touched his arm, but Adrian recoiled from her. That night they shared only recently seemed so long ago, but what had transpired since had changed them. After learning that Katya knew Adrian wasn't from this time, he felt betrayed, unwilling to be as intimate as before. And Katya had become more emotionally walled-off since the death of her family and friends, neither was in any place to console the other. "We need to get ahold of this contact. If Dmitri is still alive…" His mind turned again to his comrades, and he was filled with a bit of hope that not all of them had fallen.


	32. Reprioritizing

_I'm walking a wire, it feels like a thousand ways I could fall  
To want is to buy, but to live is to die and you can't take it all  
When everything is said and done I won't have one thing left,  
What happened to everything that I've ever known_

_Cause all they gave me was this ticket to heaven  
But that ticket to heaven, said to lie in the bed that you make  
Now I'm restless and I'm running from everything, I'm running from everything,  
I'm afraid it's a little too late_

_Ticket to Heaven – 3 Doors Down_

-Shephard's Story-

-Reprioritizing-

Adrian Shephard tossed and turned in his bed, sweat leaking out of every pore. His mind raced as he could feel his body become weightless.

_I know this feeling…all too well._

He finally began to relax as his will to move was taken from him. The blackness surrounded him like a well-worn blanket, familiar yet unnerving. Then he heard the click-clack of the footsteps.

"Well…Corporal Shephard, I am ssssorry that I have disturbed you…but there are matters that we must…attend to." The blinding light cascaded over Shephard as the voice reached inside him, causing his stomach to tremble. "You have been so very busssssssy in my absence, haven't you?" The light finally faded revealing that sickeningly pallid, grinning face.

Shephard had nothing to say, had he the will to speak in the first place. The man straightened his tie and looked at Shephard with an air of annoyed urgency. "I understand how certain…thingssss…" Images of the streets of Ravenholm, decaying and devoid of life flashed across his eyes, followed by visions of the dusty and destitute streets of City 17, and finally ending with a hazy, black and white images of Sasha laying cold and dead against the wall of the captured base. "…can get in the way. But, really…" His voice filled with condescension. "…you must get your prioritiesssss… in order. The mission…it cannot wait."

_Mission? _He mentally asked.

"Why yessss…your mission. Or had you forgot?" Katya's face flashed across his eyes as quickly as a lightening strike. "This mission is of the… utmost importance. There is no excuse for any… further delay."

_Well see here you maniacal piece of…_

It came like a switch kick to the gut and Adrian could only feel the pain. He wanted to double over, to clutch his stomach, but his limbs refused to move. "Insulting me is useless, Corporal… besides, there are much more…presssssing issues at hand."

Suddenly Adrian could feel hard Earth beneath his boots, and felt the warmth of fluorescent lighting creep over him. He looked around and saw Katya at his feet, clutching at her father, his chest dark, soaked with blood.

Adrian could see Sasha's bloody hands fish into his vest and pull out the small jumpdrive, he saw him place it in Katya's hands. "This… take this to… your uncle Dmitri. There's a man, in St. Olga's, he… he knows how to get in contact with him"

The scene froze, and Adrian felt the presence of the man behind him, but he didn't bother to look. The man walked in front of him and seized the storage device from Katya's frozen fingers and brought it close to inspect it.

"Who knew that such a sssssmall device could spell such disaster for your…benefactors." He turned in Adrian's direction.

Adrian eyed the small device, resilience burning in his heart. Behind the being materialized the armor clad, orange hero of the new world, his off-center horn-rimmed glasses sliding down his nose, a thin red crowbar gripped tightly in his right hand. This was all an illusion, but he could see the imaginary Freeman's eyes bore holes into the back of their mutual friend. His eyes trailed off and they met Adrian's. They widened and his mouth turned up in disgust.

_Don't you dare judge me like that, you traitor, I know who you _really_ are and what you're responsible for_. Adrian hissed at Freeman. He could see the hand holding the crowbar grip it tighter.

The callous figure of his captor caught sight of Adrian's wandering glance and turned to follow his gaze. Adrian focused on the man for only a split second before looking back at Freeman, but his orange form had already disappeared. The enigmatic figure turned back to Shephard, his strange green eyes narrowing, and a small smile crossing his withered lips.

His hand opened up and he held out the small thumb drive. "I think you've dawdled…long enough. Its time to…reconnect with old friends." His intonation turned up, as if asking a question.

Adrian felt himself nod, and reached out for the storage device, the room, and everything in it, glowing white until he could no longer make anything out.

X X X

Gordon awoke with a start, his H.E.V. suit registering the increased heart rate on the EKG in the corner of his vision. His back ached from the uncomfortable springs sticking out of what used to pass for a couch in the corner of the equally haggard looking living room. He reached for the nightstand, grabbing his ubiquitous, black-rimmed glasses and suddenly the world came into view.

"You alright, Dr. Freeman?" Gordon looked up and saw the young rebel, MP7 cradled in his arms, standing at the doorway. Gordon waved him away, gesturing that he was fine.

The rebel nodded and left to continue his rounds around what was left of New Little Odessa. Gordon had planned to spend the night here and leave for Light House Point the next day. He sighed inwardly, now he would never get any sleep.

The figure haunted him, he was in his dreams, and during his waking hours Gordon swore he had seen the ghostly apparition of that man stalking him. But that wasn't what had woken Gordon with such a start.

_Those clothes._ He thought, _I never thought I'd see those fatigues again._ Those murderous bastards had been the cause for all of this, as far as Gordon was concerned. They had killed the world's last hope to stop the Xen invasion before the Combine had a chance to enslave humanity.

Gordon rose to his feet and stepped outside, letting the cool morning ocean air and the lulling of the waves against the shore greet him. He passed a young woman who was keeping lookout over the pier, who smiled at him sheepishly. Gordon hated that, he hated the way people treated him, like some kind of mythical figure. He smiled at her and waved slightly as he walked to the end of the pier.

Taking a seat, his legs dangling off over the edge, Gordon looked out over the sea, it's gray depths threatening to swallow his thoughts whole. That dream was the first time that Gordon could remember not being the center of his "benefactor's" attention. He had been looking at, and presumably speaking to, that soldier. Gordon shuttered at the thought of those death squads. Combine soldiers we bad enough, they were brainwashed to kill their own kind. Gordon could remember overhearing conversations of those Marines, expressing their enjoyment at the prospect of having some real "sport".

So why had the mysterious figure taken interest in one of those madmen? Gordon let a gloved hand pick up some of the sand littering the old pier and let it fall from his hand, the wind carrying it out to sea. At least all those horrible men were dead, lost to the war that had consumed most of the planet. Gordon could at least take solace in that.

"Dr. Freeman, old boy!" Gordon almost shuddered as the posh -and fake, as far as he had heard from several other rebels- British accent of Colonel Cubbage assaulted his ears. He turned and faced the approaching figure with as convincing a smile as he could across his face, which wasn't very convincing. This really was turning out to be one of those mornings.

X X X

The mess hall was alive with the sound of dozens of human voices. The rotting wooden floor creaked as people passed by the kitchen window and received their rations for the day. Shephard followed Katya as they stood quietly in line. The mid-day sun shown brightly through the dusty windows, illuminating the specks of dirt that hung in the air of the musty food hall.

It unnerved Adrian slightly; as he watched the men and women of the settlement go about their day. They joked, laughed, and debated, so much like the men he had served with. Hell, Shephard though, slap some uniforms on them and it wouldn't look too different from a mess hall at Santiago Marine Base.

Coming up to the window Adrian pulled the battered tray he was offered into his hands and followed Katya to a spot in the corner of the large hall. Setting the tray down, Adrian looked demurely at what passed for food. The gray, featureless mush undulated obscenely when he poked it with his spoon.

"What is it?" Katya, though, didn't have such reservations, as she shoveled another spoonful into her mouth.

"Don't ask." She said between mouthfuls. "Just eat." She was right; they needed to build back up their energy. Now that Shephard thought about it, he couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten. Taking a swig of water from his canteen he dipped his spoon into the gray matter and tentatively placed it on his tongue. Choking back his gag reflex, he closed his mouth and chewed.

He nearly had to spit it back into his plate. The slushy concoction made his stomach turn. Not all of it was mushy, though, he could definitely feel several crunchy bits. He sputtered slightly and, afraid to make a scene, swallowed the rest without incident. Washing his mouth out, he glared at Katya, who continued to shovel the crap into her mouth greedily.

"It's an acquired taste." He could almost see the grin.

"What the hell is it?" Katya set her spoon down and took a sip of water.

"See, the leeches ate most of the fish and crabs in the water. Most everything near the shore is leech territory. I wouldn't suggest going for a swim. So since this was primary a fishing settlement back in the day…" She let the statement hang in the air, as Adrian's eyes grew wide with realization.

He almost wanted to scrape his tongue. "They feed us _leeches_?" Katya took another spoonful and waved it in front of his face in a juvenile attempt to make him squirm, which it did.

"Oh harden the fuck up, Shephard. These people make do, so should you." She shoved the spoon in her mouth. Adrian looked down at his tray in dismay, before picking up the spoon and swirling it around in the goop.

"So when are we meeting with the contact?" Katya fished a small, plastic wrapped package out of her pocket and laid it on the table. Adrian picked it up and studied it. It was the small flash drive that Sasha had given them before they had escaped the base. Unwrapping it, Adrian could see it still had several spots of dried blood. His dream from the night before came flooding back to him, the image of Sasha laying dead caused the small device to take on more meaning.

"The old guy is going to meet us later this afternoon." Katya said, obviously trying not to look at the small computer storage device. Shephard thumbed it and finally slid it back across the table to her.

"'Old guy'?" Thinking about it, Adrian hadn't seen ANY geriatrics in this brave, new world. There didn't seem to be a place for the feeble in a world dominated by survival of the fittest.

"He's the settlement's liaison to the Resistance." She lowered her voice and leaned closer across the table. "This place hasn't seen much action since the war, it's not much more than a supply station for the Resistance." She stood up and picked up Adrian's canteen, heading for the tank at the back of the room.

X X X

Adrian tapped the small keypad on the chest of his vest, and felt a warm, soothing feeling as the needles retracted back into the spine of the armor and shucked it off, laying it on the table. After lunch Adrian and Katya had parted ways, she was going to see if she could find ammunition to replenish their empty magazines, she would drop when she found some.

Shephard sniffed his clothes, and found they didn't smell half as bad as he had feared. He looked at his vest sitting on the table and frowned. He had secretly been hoping to find time to take it off and relax, but now that he'd taken it off, he wanted nothing more than to be back in its warm embrace. Shaking his head, he stepped out onto the balcony and looked out over the sea. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been to the beach. Regardless of how recent any memories felt, he had to take into account that they were over twenty years old.

Staring out at the gray sea, Adrian cocked an eyebrow, it seemed as though the sea was much lower than it originally had been. Several boats that at one time had been docked nearby were now tipped on their sides, seemingly run aground, now resting in much shallower waters.

"Been a long time since you were out at the coast, friend?" Adrian looked to his right and saw a man dressed in the ubiquitous blue denim coveralls of a repatriated citizen leaning out over the balcony of his apartment. His youthful eyes questioned him, but they belied his age. With wrinkled Latin skin, the man was easily twenty or thirty years older than him.

Adrian looked back out over the sea. "Yeah." He nearly whispered. He could see the man grinning in the corner of his vision.

"It wasn't always like this, and it wont always will be." He spoke cryptically in his thick Spanish accent. "My father, he fight in the War, he tell me when the Nazis burned his town to the ground, he didn't think things would ever be good again." His voice lowered. "But they stuck together, they didn't give up, and eventually," a smile crossed his face. "Eventually we drive those Nazi bastards back, and he returned to his home, to rebuild." The man nodded fervently to himself to emphasize the point. "One day we will do the same. One day we will rebuild."

Adrian nodded to himself as well. It was good to see someone so hopeful. Granted everyone was hell-bent on destroying the Combine, but he hadn't seen this kind of emotion, this kind of _humanity_, for a while.

Adrian cracked a smile. "And where's home for you, friend?"

"Granada, Spain." The man reveled in memories of home. "And you, friend?"

"Oregon, the United States."

"Is it beautiful?" The man asked whimsically.

"Yeah…greenest place I've ever seen."

"Is it worth fighting for, worth dieing for?" Adrian leaned against the rail and stared out into the ocean.

"Yeah, it is." The man leaned out across his balcony towards Adrian, his hand outstretched.

"It seems like we both have homes worth fighting for. Maybe this war isn't lost after all." Adrian smiled and reached out across the balcony and shook the man's hand.

The two were interrupted by a knock at Adrian's door. Shephard tipped an imaginary hat to the man. "It was a pleasure."

The man smiled. "Maybe we will see more of each other." Shephard nodded and said he hoped so as he left to answer the door.

Katya stood at the door, two boxes of ammo in her arms. "Thank god! How long were you going to make me wait with this shit in my arms?!" She said throwing a heavy metal box at Adrian. It rattled with the many bullets stored inside. Katya moved to the desk and pushed his vent onto the bed, setting the box of ammunition in its place.

"I've got some nine mill's, 5.56's for the M4, and some shells for Stella." She frowned. "Sorry but I couldn't find any ammo for the sniper rifle. How much do you have?"

Adrian frowned in return. "I didn't think to grab any ammo, all I have is what's in there already. The mag holds twelve shots." They'd have to find some ammo soon or else that rifle was nothing more than dead weight. Katya shrugged and pulled her backpack onto the table shuffling through it for their empty magazines.

"I'll reload the mags, I was approached by one of the guards on my way back. You're wanted in the 'Library'." Adrian shot her a puzzled look. "Hey don't ask me, that's what the man said. He's waiting outside."

Adrian looked at the vest sitting on the bed. He didn't think a trip to something so mundane sounding as the 'Library' required any type of protection. Katya could see him eyeing the vest.

"Are you really going to bother?"

Just the same, Adrian grabbed the berretta under his pillow, checked the mag and put it on safe, sliding it into his thigh holster.

Katya cocked her eyebrow. "Really think that's necessary?" Adrian didn't bother answering as he walked out.

Descending the stairs he met the guard at the bottom. The man was dressed in withered green fatigues, patches of random colored cloth covering several well-worn areas. He cradled an old shotgun in his arms. Seeing Adrian, he straightened up and met him with a handshake.

"The name's Chambers, I'm going to escort you to see Mr. Ambrose." Adrian nodded without truly understanding. The two left the small apartment complex and walked out onto the empty cobblestone street.

"Who's Mr. Ambrose?" Adrian queried as they headed down the street. The guard let the unsafetied shotgun rest on his shoulder, John Wayne style, which made Shephard a little than worried about the guard's competence.

"He represents the Resistance here." The man said moving an old toothpick around in his mouth. Adrian grimaced; this man was obviously trying too hard to play the 'macho man' part, and failing miserably. He didn't have any clue that he couldn't hope to either impress or intimidate Shephard. He resigned himself to following the walking cliché.

The pair made their way down the main street of the village and finally stopped in front of a brick building that stood out tall among the other, older wooden buildings. Two guards stood bored in front of the doors, armed with antique rifles that Adrian couldn't quite name.

"He's here to see the boss." One of the guards didn't even bother looking in their direction, while the other lifted a thumb and waved them in. Chambers didn't bother following Shephard as he made his way inside. The doors shut abruptly behind him and he could hear the men laugh and start conversing before long.

He entered the empty lobby of the building, his boot steps echoing on the limestone floor. He stood in the middle of the room, waiting for someone to tend to him, before realizing that no one was coming. He walked down the hallway leading away from the room. The first door he passed was slightly ajar, and Adrian could hear the crackling of a fire behind it. Knocking softly, he heard a raspy voice reply.

"Enter." Adrian pushed the door open slowly.

And almost immediately pulled his sidearm to bear. The Vortigaunt looked up from the book he was reading in the chair next to the fire and his large red eye widened.

Adrian's military training and experience at Black Mesa caused his reflexes to immediately want to pull the trigger. But the curious part of his mind stayed his hand, and questioned why that slimy creature was_sitting down_ and _reading a book_. Shephard hesitated, his finger never straying from the trigger guard.

"I can assure the Shephard, I mean no harm." The alien creature rose from his large padded seat, his strangely angled legs stretching, making him appear taller.

Adrian couldn't speak, he was in shock; the thing had _spoken_ to him.

The gun in his hand shook as the Vortigaunt sauntered up to him, his oddly padded feet making strange muffled thuds on the warm carpet. The thing's alien came up and gently touched the barrel, lowering it.

"We understand the Shephard's…trepidation."

Shephard struggled find the words. "You… you can _talk_?"

The odd mandibles stretched in such a disgusting way, Adrian would have been surprised to find out it was a Vortigaunt's version of a smile. "We can do many things. We are not the mindless monsters you once encountered."

"How…do you know my name?" Adrian safetied the weapon, but couldn't bring himself to holster it.

"The Shephard is well know among the Vortessence, your deeds have not gone unobserved…" Both Shephard and the Vortigaunt snapped their heads to the other end of the room when a small door was abruptly bumped open and a small man in a blue pea coat stepped into the room, a platter of tea in his hands. He turned to the two and stopped in his tracks, letting the door slam shut.

"Well it looks like you've met my Vortigaunt friend…" The man said, setting the tea on an adjacent table and walking up to the two. "I best be introducing myself as well." He stuck his hand out. "The name's Marcus Ambrose, I'm pleased to meet you."

Adrian shook his head and holstered his pistol. "Shephard, Adrian Shephard." He eyed the Vortigaunt cautiously. "And this is…?" The Vortigaunt brought his fleshy hands together and bowed slightly.

"It is our humblest wish that we could convey to you, the great Shephard, this one's true name, but unfortunately your species does not possess the vortal cords necessary… to perform such an act. But your human compatriots refer to this one as Edgar." Shephard eyed the creature now with more curiosity, rather than fear. Ambrose laughed and motioned for Adrian to take a seat in front of the fire.

"Edgar's told me a lot about you." Shephard took his seat in the large, plush chair and let himself relax. Looking around, he could see why this room would be referred to as the 'Library'. It was wall-to-wall books, nearly two stories, and so high that a ladder was needed to reach the highest shelves. Edgar took a seat and with his third arm that protruded from his chest, picked up the book he had previously been reading, a book by J.D. Salinger titled Catcher in the Rye, and set it on the table beside him. "He started spouting off all this Shephard rubbish about a week ago, right around the time the rest of his ilk were hailing the return of that Friedman, or Fishman fellow." The man seemed genuinely confused at how to pronounce his name, and Shephard was about to correct him. "Whatever it is, anyways. Edgar said…" He sighed and smiled at his friend, who seemed perfectly at home and normal sitting in the old chair. "Well Edgar why don't you tell 'im." Ambrose rose and carried the tray of tea over, offering some to Shephard, and setting a cup in front of Edgar.

The Vortigaunt brought his hands up and clasped them together, as if about to pray. "We remember the Shephard, you struck down many of our kind." Adrian frowned as he sipped at his tea. "We realize we were the aggressors, our minds and collective will held captive by the lesser master, the Nihilanth."

"I…I didn't know…" Adrian mumbled apologetically.

The alien opened his large red eye, the other, smaller ones following. "We understand the will to survive, it is strong in your kind. But unfortunately forgiveness is not ours to bestow." Adrian understood, nodding. "We see you still in Black Mesa, we see you battling underground, fighting against your own kind, and yet another."

Adrian's eyes brightened. "You mean…"

The alien nodded. "Indeed, the beings you know only as 'Race X' were not our ilk, but another. Your triumph over the Gene Worm was another blow struck against the greater masters, those known to you as the Combine."

Adrian looked to Ambrose, who sipped at his tea, unphased by the conversation that was tearing apart the very fabric of reality for Adrian. "Do you know… why I'm here…?" The dream from the previous evening weighed heavy on his mind.

The alien bowed his head in apology. "Our consciousness, the Vortessence, is still pondering the reason for your appearance. We sense you are being watched by another, but at the very least we can concur that your coming is as important as the Freeman's. The Combine's reckoning is at hand."

Ambrose finally set his cup of tea down. "Edgar says you were with the soldiers who were the first on the scene at Black Mesa."

Shephard nodded. "Yeah, the 501st Hazardous Environment Combat Unit. I was cut off from my unit pretty early though." The old man nodded.

"Yeah, we heard later that the mission was botched from the start." Adrian set his cup down.

"You 'heard'? How?"

"As soon as it all went to pot, the eggheads who'd survived, along with some of your comrades, went public." Adrian couldn't believe it, proof that some of the 501st had survived. "They had some pretty damning information, too. But in the chaos that followed, the nuking of Black Mesa, the portal storms, and finally the invasion… well people didn't have much of a chance to put those responsible in the gallows."

"You mean… Breen?" The old man nodded.

"Yeah, Dr. Breen, that bastard sold us out to the Combine, claiming it was for the greater good." Ambrose poured more tea into his cup and brought it up to his lips, testing the temperature. "Edgar's told me he thinks you're hear to get in touch with someone." The man had a twinkle in his eye.

"Yeah, my friend and I have some information we need to get to Dmitri Destovaya." As if on cue the doors at the front of the building could be heard opening, and the click-clack of boots on the limestone could be heard walking towards the large study. A knock was heard at the door.

"Come in!" Ambrose called. Adrian turned to see Katya cautiously step inside. Her eyes flickered towards the Vortigaunt, but she showed little surprise.

"Are there many of you… friendly aliens around?" Adrian asked sheepishly, as Katya took a seat next to him.

Edgar picked up the mug of tea with one of his oddly shaped hands and poured it precariously into his awkwardly angled mandibles. "We have been the friend's of humanity since our shackles were torn from us."

Katya jumped in, picking up on Adrian's confusion. "They'd been brainwashed by their puppet leader, who acted in the same manner as Breen. Once they were free, they willingly joined the Resistance."

"Indeed, we have resolved to join you in the fight to free this miserable rock." The alien mumbled in between sips of tea, which caused Ambrose to chuckle slightly.

Turning to Katya he smiled and held out his hand. "Katya, right? I knew your father." She took his hand and shook it tentatively, and then his smile faded. "I heard about what happened. The Resistance airwaves all buzzin', Overwatch has been celebratin' their liberation of another 'Rebel Stronghold'. It's being used as bloddy propaganda." Katya's eyes found the ground, and stayed there. The old man's hand found her shoulder. "It's okay, I heard you busted them up good before you got our of there."

"It still doesn't bring my father back." She mumbled. Ambrose nodded and sat back in his chair.

"Adrian says you need to get in touch with your uncle?" Katya looked up, nodding in reply. She fished into her pocket and pulled out the small thumb drive, handing it to Ambrose.

"He says that Dmitri needs to see it, it's from the Resistance higher ups. They haven't got the time or the equipment, but they think that uncle Dmitri might be able to help them." Ambrose toyed with the small device before handing it back to Katya.

"I'll radio Kleiner tomorrow and tell him the information is safe. They've been worried sick that it may have fallen into the wrong hands. As for getting in touch with Dmitri, I can work something out." He grinned. "I had already assumed that's what you might be here for… so I've already made some calls." Ambrose stood up and walked over to a small chest of drawers against the wall, pulling open one of the containers. Out of it he pulled a folded up map and brought it back to the coffee table. Removing the tray and unfolding the map, he spread it across the table.

His fingers found a point along the coast. "This here is where we are, St. Olga." His fingers traced a path up the coastal highway. "Friedman's been moving down the coast, working his way to Nova Prospekt, here." His fingers traced the highway down until it ended on a large peninsula. "Nova Prospekt's gotta large train depot nearby, all the major traffic in Eurasia meets here before being distributed elsewhere." He took out a pen and circled the area. "Now while Feyman's got Overwatch distracted on the coastal highway, you're going to make your way inland, through this forest here." He said circling a larger, greener area. "Edgar here will guide you, he knows the safest way." The two looked at the quiet Vortigaunt, who nodded politely. "Once you get to the train depot, it'll only be a matter of catching the correct train east…" He said as he drew a line right across Asia. Adrian grimaced, that route would take them days.

Ambrose chuckled at Shephard's frown. "It's not gonna take near as long as you think, sonny. Them Razor trains the Combine use'll break the sound barrier. They'll have you there in no time flat, just don't expect a comfy ride, is all." He finally circled an area close to the Yucatan Peninsula. "Here's the end of the line, the East Asia Supply Depot, near city 21. I have a contact there who'll meet you at the depot."

Katya raised an eyebrow. "How will we know him?"

Ambrose crackled a smile. "You'll know 'im when you see 'im, love."

Adrian finally interrupted. "Wait, wait. So just how the hell are we supposed to stow away on a Combine Razor train parked in a highly secured depot?"

"Hey, sonny, I'm just tellin' ya how to get there, I can't think of everything for ya!" Edgar brought his cupped hands under his chin in contemplation.

"The Freeman's storming of Nova Prospekt will no doubt create enough of a diversion for us to slip in unnoticed." Katya nodded in agreement.

"Well then, we're agreed?" Ambrose said, pouring Adrian more tea.

"Just one more thing." Shephard said. "You said Dmitri is still alive…"

Edgar raised his head. "The Shephard wishes to know if more of his comrades still live." Shephard didn't have to respond, his pleading gaze was enough. The alien closed his eyes and bowed his head. "When the Freeman released us from the shackles of our captor, we were…befriended by several of your comrades. Ones by the names of Tower, Wilkes, and Jackson., you know them, do you not?"

Adrian instinctively gripped the arms of the couch, his eyes tearing. "Y…yeah." He croaked out.

"There are no finer examples of humanity than those three, despite what others may say." Katya reached over and took hold of Shephard's hand.

"Where are they?" Adrian asked, but a shudder rocked the library. The four sat still, and almost immediately sirens began to wail outside.

"The Combine, they've finally decided to strike." Edgar said, to no one in particular. Adrian could only think of one name.

Aldrich. That bastard.

In a flash Ambrose was on his feet, flying into the next room. Adrian followed suit, and found him at the knobs of an old radio.

"Well what the hell is going on, Chambers?!" He cried into the handset.

There was silence followed by a cry of static. _"They've launched headcrabs!"_ The rest was cut out by static.

Ambrose looked up at Shephard, his jolly-old man expression gone, replaced by a sense of authority. "Where are they, damnit!?"

More static._"…tower! The church steeple! The south end guard tower reports that Dr. Freeman just arrived!"_ Ambrose cursed and slammed down the handset.

"They've launched headcrabs from the monastery. Damnit I told them we needed to garrison it!" Ambrose kicked open a closet door and pulled out a set of keys and a long harpoon. "Adrian, you, Katya, and Edgar, help organize the others to help clean the streets. I'm going to see if I can't get Fishman to clean those Commie bastards out of our church!" He said making his way out a back door.

Katya turned to Edgar. "Is he going to be alright?" She said, referring to his primitive weapon.

Edgar, in that enigmatic way that all Vortigaunts replied, simply nodded and bowed. "Ambrose has seen much worse horrors in his long life."

Katya turned to Adrian, who was already checking the action of his pistol. "'Don't take the vest', she says, 'is that gun really necessary', she says." He grumbled to himself. He turned to meet her gaze. "So, where's your gun?"

Katya could only glare at him as another explosion rocked the building.


	33. The Battle of St Olga

_Watch me heap up what I've sown_

_I'm made of peanuts, not of shells_

_God spares a quality of himself_

_Uniquely designed, but we can't help ourselves_

_So, why I made the face that bugs you_

_I wont design conversation around you_

_I made the face that bugs you_

_Spyglass scans the fields_

_Hold my hand, I feel a chill in here_

_Tired of looking through you_

_I've found myself, can you find you?_

_MIA - Chevelle_

-Shephard's Story-

-The Battle of St. Olga-

**A/N: Read now, bitch about my unjustifiably late update later. Enjoy.**

"You ready?"

"Does it look like I'm ready?"

"I'm just saying, we don't know what's out there."

"That's why you're going out first."

Shephard sighed as he relented. Katya stood next to Edgar, a large aluminum baseball bat clutched tightly in her hands. The ancient instrument had been found in the same dusty closet as Ambrose's harpoon, and since the house seemed to be devoid of any better blunt objects, Katya had taken it for her own. Now the three stood next to the front door, the sporadic fire outside punctuating their short and terse conversation.

"Okay, wait for me to give the all-clear." Adrian said, clutching the door handle. It had grown ominously quiet at that moment, and Shephard almost hesitated opening the door. But he sucked in his breath and turned the creaky handle. The afternoon sun flooded the front room as Adrian swung his aim outside, looking left and right down the long stretch of road.

Several of the old wooden apartments were ablaze, holes blown in their sides from collisions with those headcrab launchers, no doubt. He could hear gunfire up the road, accompanied by a ghoulish houl, which made Shephard shiver, but otherwise it seemed clear. He turned to the two standing in the doorway and waved.

"We're good..." But Adrian was cut off by the whiz of a large caliber round which slammed into the rubble next to him. Adrian instinctively ducked and hit the floor, scrambling behind a pile of stone. "Mother-fu..." But he was cut off again as another round slammed into the pile of stone, knocking several over. As soon as the dust settled, Shephard could see a blue laser light scan the area were he had been only moments ago. He curled up into the fetal position to conceal his location and looked over at the two standing in the doorway.

"Adrian! Are you okay?" Katya screamed. Adrian brought a finger up to his mouth to silence her.

Edgar turned to Katya. "The Combine have dispatched their dreaded sharpshooters to take care of the ssstraglers. We'd be best to separate, so as not to attract their attention." Katya's face screwed up in a look of disagreement as she looked at Adrian.

"Go with him!" He waved her off. "I'll meet you at the apartment!" Katya didn't want to leave him there, stuck behind the rubble, but she didn't have much of a choice, as Edgar's alien hands tugged at her sleeve.

"Please, we know of a way through the sewers, we will meet the Shephard there." Katya hesitated, eyeing Adrian's prone form. I wont leave you again, her eyes seem to implore. Another shot pierced the silence, striking just in front of the double doors. Adrian waved at her again, this time his eyes imploring her. _I'll see you soon, I promise._

Edgar tugged at her again, and this time Katya relented. The two disappeared from the open threshold. With those two out of harms way, Shephard could finally try and divert the sniper's attention. The groans from down the street were beginning to sound closer, and Adrian could here the sound of large caliber rounds slamming into rubbery flesh. He scrounged around the ground for a piece of shattered glass and held it slightly above the rubble pile. In the reflection he could see the hunkered forms of several half-zombies shambling down the street. About them the blue laser sight danced, picking them off one by one.

_I guess even the Combine need a little target practice._ Adrian had to suppress a grin, they'd use him as target practice if he didn't find a way out soon. He angled the glass slightly and found the nearest alleyway, which he could only hope wasn't a dead end. He angled the glass back and was startled to find it blocked by the shadow of one of the zombies as it stumbled over the pile of rubble.

The grotesque half-man seemed as surprised to find Shephard as he was, and was stunned for a moment as it's claws, short, sharp pieces of stretched bone that had yet to grow to their full length, reached for him. Adrian reached for his pistol, knowing it would give away his position, but he didn't have much of a choice. But before he could pull it out of his holster, the creature lurched forward and tumbled over the pile of rubble, rolling down the angled street, the undulating creature atop its head nearly blown clean off by the sniper round.

His breathing rate back to normal, Shephard silently thanked the unknowing sharpshooter. Reaching for the glass again, he followed the laser's movement as it danced around a group of four shamblers. Which it adequately engaged, Adrian took several breaths and gauged the distance to the alley.

Only about ten meters, he tried to calm himself. Only the most dangerous ten meters of his entire life.

_Enough of this self-defeating bullshit_, he told himself. Taking one last breath he unholstered the pistol and vaulted over the rubble pile in one clean jump.

_One meter_. He could see the sniper take down another zombie.

_Three meters_. The laser sight jerked as it noticed his long strides.

_Five meters_. Half way there, but the blue light of death was now making a b-line for his vaulting figure.

_Seven meters_. The sniper must have anticipated his destination, as the laser sight moved to the alleyway.

Nine Meters. Adrian sucked in his breath and dove into the alley, smacking into several garbage cans as two well placed shots pinged off the side of the alley. Shephard felt a sharp pain shoot up his left side. He felt his side and his hand came away blood red. He cursed at the sniper's accurate aim and picked himself up. He cringed as the pain shot through his body and he groaned loudly.

Shoving the pain back, down deep where he kept the rest of his fears, he looked down the dark alley and sighed when he picked out the form of a door leading into the adjacent building. At least something was going his way. He sidled up next to the door and pressed his head against it, listening. When he didn't hear anything, he leaned against it and opening it with his weight. The lobby of the apartment was small, but the front door hadn't been opened, so it brought Adrian some hope that it was safe. An explosion nearby rocked the building, causing dust and mortar to fall from the ceiling. Shephard crept towards the back looking for a door to the back alleyway which must connect most of the apartments, knowing that if he didn't get out of here soon, he'd be buried in this decrepit building.

He grimaced when he found the back door wide open, a blood soaked trail leading out of it. The back led into a small path and wound past several identical buildings, with several more tributaries of alleys leading off. The trail of blood lead up the hill, which Adrian hated to admit, was where he needed to go.

With buildings on each side, and little room to maneuver, it was a soldier's nightmare when facing either close quarters fighting, or a specially trained marksman bent on turning everything above his head into a fine red mist. But Adrian pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind and crept down the alley, keeping his eyes on the buildings that populated the end of the path, watching for any movement in the windows.

This keeping him occupied, it was no wonder that he was surprised when he passed by one of the branching alleys, only to be confronted by the lumbering heap of what used to be a human being. The man was hunched over much more so than the normal zombie, and his throaty groan was much deeper, much more inhuman, than his other ilk. But what really made Adrian cringe was the sight of several of the black, mottled head crabs sitting atop it's hunch back. It chirped and crept along the creature's back, preparing to pounce. Adrian flattened himself against the wall as the headcrab flung itself from its host body. It overshot it's intended prey and smacked against a wall. Adrian pulled his pistol to bare and put two rounds in the abomination, which chirped noisily as it died.

Satisfied that the parasite wouldn't bother him anymore, Adrian had barely enough time to dodge a strike from the lumbering creature next to him. He ducked and rolled out into the main alley, only to find himself the target of the deadly blue laser sight. Adrian cursed and rolled out of the way, his pistol shots must have alerted the sniper. A round turned the space he occupied only moments ago into a pothole as he looked for some cover. To his left was the zombie, which made it's way into the alleyway, following him, but there wasn't another branching alley for several meters.

He was running out of options. Dodging another strike from the bloated zombie, Adrian scanned the adjacent buildings and found the next best thing to an exit, a window. Taking a running start, he jumped through the window, breaking the glass and rolling into a recovery position, cursing and groaning as he clutched his burning side. Out in the alley he heard the frustrated groans of the poison zombie as it clawed at the window, mourning it's lost prey. It was silenced soon after by the crack of a sniper shot.

Adrian didn't have time to revel in his good fortune though, and was up on his feet traversing the building within moments. He was only a block from the apartment, and by all rights the two apartment complexes should be connected.

_But it never worked out that way, did it?_ This became frustratingly apparent as Adrian barreled into the next room, only to be greeted by the blast of a shotgun. It took a chunk out of the door next to him and Adrian dropped to his knees, his pistol trained on the aggressor.

"Whoa! Wait!" The man held up his hands, laying the old Remington on the ground. "I though you were Overwatch!" The cowering figure of Chambers stuttered. Adrian grimaced and let the pistol fall to his side. Chambers sighed and picked the shotgun back up. "They're _everywhere_ out there, man. We're fucked!" Adrian didn't bother listening to the man. He looked jealously at the powerful shotgun.

"You coming with me?" Chambers hesitated and Adrian grabbed the shotgun from his shaking hands and handed him the pistol. "There's 13 rounds left. If you're going to sit in here, that should be more than enough." He hefted the sturdy 870 and grabbed a handful of shells from the table next to Chambers.

"H...hey! That, that's mine!" The sniveling man whimpered, Adrian shot him a look as he shoved another shell into the underside. The man immediately silenced.

Adrian sidled up next to the door and peered out the window next to it. The street seemed clear, which wasn't a good sign, no zombies meant no distractions. Adrian sighed, and wondered if Katya and Edgar were faring any better.

X X X

"To the void with you!" The green electricity illuminated the dark sewer system as Edgar dispatched another headcrab. The scorched creature flew back against the wall, thudding and then splashing into the ankle-high water. The Vortiguant hummed his approval of the kill and looked to his companion.

Katya held her bat at the ready, her expression grim. It was hard enough to see in here without the Vortigaunt blinding her with it's energy attack. She blinked several times, the bright and dazzling spots eventually dissipating.

"How much farther?" She asked impatiently. The Vortigaunt turned and plodded down the sewer.

"Several more meters." He quickly replied as two zombies rounded the corner. They turned and gurgled menacingly at their prey. Edgar brought his hands together and the green glow quickly grew into a near blinding light.

The Vortigaunt growled as he ran up against the pair of undead and slammed the ball of energy into the ground. The shock wave knocked the pair off their feet.

"My companion! Finish the job!" He cried, crouching slightly, looking drained by the experience. Katya was immediately on the zombies, landing several devastating hits to the parasites.

Turning to Edgar she noticed the creature standing with one arm leaning up against the wall. "Are you okay?"

The alien puffed out it's cheeks, a strange sight considering the two protrusions next to his head accompanied the gesture with a quiet whistle. "This one is old, even by our standards, I do not have the virile essence I once did."

Katya allowed herself a grin, even these seemingly immortal allies of humanity had their limits. Her ears prickled, though, as ripples in the water lapped against her ankles. She turned and raised the bat even before her mind had time to assess the threat.

In one deft move, as the headcrab that been scuttling nearer towards the pair and readied itself to pounce, Katya swung the bat back, eyeing the creature. It's stubby legs catapulted it longer than one would think, mouth wide open, waiting for that fatal copulation.

But it was stopped short, as the aluminum bat connected with it, sending it against the wall, eliciting a pathetic cry.

Katya scanned the water for any more creatures and finally let the bat rest at her side.

"Home run." She grinned. Her alien guide looked at her questioningly, but finally put it off to general human strangeness.

Pushing himself from his resting position against the wall, he slowly overtook Katya and lead her deeper into the sewer system.

X X X

The blue light cross the window's view once more and Adrian sighed.

They were running out of options.

"Hey man, what's the freakin' plan?" Chambers asked for the third time in his high pitched, nagging voice. Adrian turned to him and put a finger to his lips, they didn't want to attract any attention, undead or otherwise. Chambers took personal offense and stood up in a childish stance of defiance. "Hey, you're not my boss!" He yelled, his voice cracking.

Adrian grimaced as he heard shuffling footsteps outside the door. The hole that chambers had blown in it was suddenly obscured by something on the other side. Shephard tensed as he realized what was about to happen, and how he had to react. Chambers, sadly, was completely oblivious to what was going on, as he continued to rant.

"You can't just come in here and take my gun like you're…" But he finally shut up when he heard the erratic pounding at the door, and turned to stare in horror as a bloody claw stuck itself out through the hole. "Shit!"

Adrian took this cue to kick open the door and take a quick look at the street. There was a derelict car sitting on its side, a headcrab canister lodged in its underside. He looked down the street and saw the blue laser sight lodged in the window of the second story of an apartment building.

The door finally crashed open, three zombies shuffling and crawling over each other to get inside. Chambers pushed pass Adrian and ran into the street.

"Fuck this shit!" He screamed in panic. Trying to grab him, Shephard could only watch as the laser sight found its mark.

"Get down!" He screamed. But it was too late, the street was sprayed with a fine red mist, a shot any sniper would be proud to claim. Shephard didn't have time to mourn, though, and took off for the relative safety of the overturned car as the sniper chambered another round.

As he ran he let off several shots in the direction of the window. Though he knew he wouldn't hit the sniper, at least maybe he could give the soldier pause as he dodged the inaccurate buckshot. His breath came out ragged and his lungs burned along with his side as he kneeled behind the car. A round pinged off of the other side and Adrian scrambled for the pistol Chambers had dropped just feet away. Pointing it over his cover, he let off several rounds, watching as the blue laser flickered about while the sniper moved to avoid the bullets. Rolling to his feet, Adrian took off across the street to the other side. Rounds pinged off the ground just inches away as he jumped inside the lobby of his apartment.

Vaulting up the stairs, he burst through the door into his room. He grunted and felt his wound, which stung to the touch. His PCV lay on the bed, but Adrian knew that putting it on would waste valuable time. He grabbed the rifle, which stood up against the desk and chambered a round. Looking out his balcony, he saw the blue laser scanning the street below and smiled.

Now it was _his_ turn.

X X X

The sewer eventually led to an opening that deposited the two out onto a maintenance catwalk that ran along the side of the cliff. Edgar hopped out, and steadied himself against the railing. Katya followed him, and took in the view of the ocean that lapped against the cliff and the peninsula on which the monastery sat. She immediately noticed the commotion as bright blue beams ricocheted off the sides of the cliff. Squinting and peering closer, she saw an orange form scale the cliff side.

"Oh my god… that's Freeman!" She muttered. The Vortigaunt brought his hands together and hummed in agreement.

"He is attempting to shut down the Combine presence within the holy structure." Katya watched as Freeman dispatched more off the soldiers as he vaulted across several chasms. Above him, though, several Overwatch Elites tethered themselves to anchors and prepared to rappel down the cliff.

Katya gasped. "He wont see it coming!" But Freeman was more perceptive than she gave him credit for, and at the last moment, turned and unloaded several shotgun rounds into the rappelling soldiers. One snapped his tether and fell raggedly down into the rocks below, while another wounded soldier aimed his pulse rifle, letting loose several blue rounds. Freeman dodged them and whipped out his magnum pistol putting a round though the Elite's red ocular sensor. Maybe the rumors of his invulnerability weren't as overstated as they sounded, she mused.

As if it had read her mind, Edgar observed, "The Freeman's will to survive against all odds is miraculous, a testament to your ssspecies. But we have no time, the Freeman has his duties, and we have ours." Katya turned and nodded, following the alien as he scaled the railing upward, back towards the fighting.

X X X

The two Overwatch soldiers took up defensive positions inside the captured southeast guard tower. One peered out the concrete slits, surveying the carnage unfolding outside. The human resistance fought in vain against the rising tide of the parasites.

The radio on his began to sputter to life, alive with the sound of combat. _"Contact! Anti-citizen One has breached the perimeter!" _The voice was quickly silenced. Turning away from his position at the window, the soldier looked to his partner standing next to the large iron entrance. The other soldier simply returned his same, emotion-less look. Neither had much feeling left, but even an augmented killing machine new that if their objective escaped yet again, the surviving few of them faced the daunting prospect of off-world assignment.

The iron door of the guard post suddenly began to shake violently, and was subsequently ripped off its sturdy hinges, flying across the small concrete bunker and slamming into one of the soldiers, killing him instantly. His partner hadn't the time to react before the smoke cleared and his reinforced plastic-polymer helmet was shattered by the blunt force of a metal bat. The soldier fell to the ground, blood streaming from the cracks in his helmet.

"That's a pretty neat trick, Edgar." Katya said, surveying the carnage as the Vortigaunt followed her inside. Edgar nodded in response.

"You should procure a more… suitable weapon." He muttered, staring at the submachine gun stilled clutched in the fallen soldiers gloved hands. As Katya bent down to pick it up, the dead soldier's radio began to buzz with Combine military chatter.

"_Rodger that, confirmed, free-necrotics, necrotics have breached the containment perimeter. Overwatch advise."_

Katya shuddered as the cold, roboticly female, voice of Overwatch dispatch replied nearly instantly. _"Echo squad, Air Watch is inbound. Advise erect incursion hard points and stand by for reinforcements."_

"Shit, looks like this thing is getting worse before it gets better." Katya grimaced.

"We must rejoin the Shephard and rally the rest of the populace if we are to combat the troop reinforcements." Edgar said peering out the concrete slats. Katya picked the two soldiers for ammunition then joined him at the windows.

"Well, what next?" She said looking out at the ruined street, searching for their apartment block through the smoke and the gunfire. Suddenly a scream pierced the air, and both Edgar and Katya snapped their necks in it's direction.

A young girl, no older than ten, crouched, curled in a small alcove along the street. She clutched an ancient plastic doll, the hair and painted features long since worn off. Her eyes were bright red, tears streaming down an already dusty and dirty face. As several townspeople fought valiantly against the roaming zombies, they didn't notice the young child, caught up in the fight. She sobbed, and Katya simply stared in disbelief. She hadn't seen a child in what seemed like ages. It finally took Edgar, in his inhuman wisdom, to pull her from her thoughts.

"We must save the youngling." He said calmly, plodding over to the reinforced door to the street. Lifting a bracing bar, he leaned against the door and opened it, letting the deafening sound of the conflict outside into the small room. Katya slapped a new magazine into the MP7 and followed the Vortigaunt elder into the fray.

A waist-high concrete barrier circled the concrete guard tower. Edgar climbed over it, not looking back for Katya, who vaulted over it with the ease of a Olympic athlete. Strafing across the street, Katya took several pot-shots at entrenched Combine soldiers down the way. They took cover behind the charred ruins of an APC as Katya's bullets pinged off the burning hulk.

Katya turned to see Edgar bring his hands together, charging, and letting loose a stream of green death at a nearby shambling zombie. The creature was torched to a crisp, it's corpse splattered against the old brick wall. Katya dropped to her knees and slid along to the ground into the cover of the alcove, coming to a stop from in front of the screaming girl, taking her in her arms.

"Come on baby girl, we're getting you out of here." She yelled, trying her best to sound reassuring to the child, over the roar of gunfire. The child continued to sob, but her screams abated. Slinging the submachine gun around her back, Katya shot a glance to Edgar. "Cover us!" She said, pointing up the street to a ground of rebellion armor-clad villagers erecting cover.

"Penetrate these false veils!" The alien roared as he brought his arms together and manipulated the electrical currents of his body to attack a Combine soldier who had strayed too far from cover. To the human eye, it would seem as though the trooper had been hit with an unsurvivable amount of voltage, which he was. But to the enigmatic multiple eyes of a Vortigaunt, he saw the bioelectrical current of the Combine soldier literally ripped from his body, meeting his adversary's discharge faster than any normal eye could conceive. As voltages were exchanged, the trooper was fried and flew back, while the Vortigaunt sighed in almost euphoric bliss as his body's frailty was replenished by the comparably small amount of current, which would be use to repair damaged tissue.

But Edgar's bliss was short lived as the blue laser, indicative of the Combine marksman, began to follow his and Katya's retreating forms. He couldn't see the source of it, so his attacks were useless, but the ether in which his consciousness traveled, that ethereal thing they communicated to humans as the "Vortessence" spoke to him in words that no Earthling could describe.

It told him help was on its way.

X X X

The scream had alerted Adrian, and he swung the rifle in it's direction. His scope was filled with the image of a tiny girl, a rare sight indeed, but soon he could see the vaulting forms of Katya and Edgar, which caused him to exhale in relief. He saw Katya ward off the soldiers with cover-fire and Adrian turned his attention to the sniper, scanning the apartment block he was sure housed the marksman.

The laser light had disappeared for several seconds, and Adrian assumed the sniper was changing positions; at least that's what _he_ would have done, so as to avoid being caught by his prey on the ground. Shephard could hear the crash of electricity as the Vortigaunt dispatched a soldier, and immediately he saw the blue laser designator scan the street. Following its light like a beacon, he saw it coming out of a second story window. Sucking in his breath, he willed his arms not to shake, his heart not to beat, and trained the scopes reticule on the black helmet of the marksman. His thumb flipped up the safety and his finger wrapped around the trigger in a move that felt second nature, unnaturally so.

The rifle bucked and the scope was filled with red at the blue laser danced and finally disappeared as the soldier slumped to the ground. Adrian let out a haggard breath, and smiled.

But his work wasn't done yet. He swung the rifle and put a hole in the head of another soldier in the street directly below him. The Overwatch augment fell to the ground, but his partner turned to fire on Adrian, peppering the balcony with bullets. Adrian dropped the rifle and unholstered his pistol, putting two decent sized holes in the soldier's midsection, putting him down for good.

The street was finally quiet, relatively so, now that the only sounds were the scattered fire of rebels dispatching zombies, and the constant firing of the headcrab launcher, sitting in it's perch atop the monastery. Adrian finally began to breath again, in shallow, painful gasps. He leaned over the balcony in pain, a hand pushing into his side in a sadistic attempt to add pressure to the wound.

"Adrian…?" His ears prickled at the sound of her voice as he turned to see Katya standing in the doorway, setting the young girl on her feet. Edgar stood behind her and the small child enthusiastically jumped into the creatures waiting arms, hoisting her up.

_Funny_, Adrian thought, _He'd be a good candidate for the boogieman in my dreams, but she warms to him like another human being…_

Shephard allowed himself a sheepish grin. "Hey… good to see you." He muttered as he limped over to the bed. Katya was immediately next to him.

"What happened?" She asked, alarmed. Shephard waved her off, batting away her prying hands.

"I'll be okay, really." Katya shot him a look of defiance.

"My ass you will, that already _looks_ infected." Shephard pulled away his bloody hand and saw the torn tissue below, he couldn't argue with her there.

"I hate to interrupt," Edgar interjected. "But if what we heard was true, Combine reinforcements are immanent. And if we are to make it safe for the Freeman to pass, we must secure the town." Adrian's head snapped up.

"_He's here?_" His voice came out cold and malevolent, which caused Katya to look at him with a face that said _not now_. Edgar nodded, the girl still clutched in his arms.

Bootsteps flew down the hall outside their door and a haggard looking rebel appeared at the threshold. He wiped sweat off of his brow and pointed to Shephard. "

"Thanks for the cover buddy, but we got plenty more where that came from." He turned to Edgar. "We got the zombies pretty much mopped up, long as your boy Freeman takes that launcher out of commission. But Overwatch just dropped reinforcements outside the town, three four-man fireteams by the sound of it." He hefted the AK-47 over his shoulder. "If you can get little Lizzie here to the town hall, she'll be safe. They've got the other kids in the cellar there." Edgar nodded and the man turned to Shephard. "You two in any shape to fight?"

Katya was about to interrupt when Adrian put his hand on her knee. "I'm good, gimme a minute to get patched up." The rebel nodded curtly.

"We get your shit in gear quick. We're making a push at the top of the road, near the old statue. We'll kick these bastards out if we have to throw empty bullet casings at 'em." He sneered and turned to leave. Edgar, cradling the small girl in his arms turned to Adrian.

"This one will escort the youngling to safety, then rejoin you at the fight."

"See you soon, Edgar." Adrian smiled, but grimaced as he tried to stand. Katya helped him to his feet.

"Adrian, you're in no condition to fight." She said, her voice betraying how worried she actually was.

"Just… just gimme me the vest." Katya frowned and grabbed the Powered Combat Vest, helping Adrian into it.

Shephard took several deep breaths, knowing what was to come, as his hand played with the remote attached to the vest's front.

"Just do me a favour, okay Katya?" Her eyes looked inquisitively at him. "Just stand back." Katya didn't have time to ask him why before he tapped one of the buttons.

Adrian felt the red-hot needles slice into his skin. Old wounds were opened, and wires wrapped around his spinal column as Adrian fell to his knees and coughed up blood. Katya bent to help him up, but Adrian pushed her away. Breathing in and out, he heard his instructor's authoritative voice, commanding him on how the PCV would affect him.

"_You'd think those eggheads would think of a more painless way to put this little baby on. But you're a Marine; if you'd signed up for the medical benefits, you shoulda joined the Army! Now suck it up and breath hard, grunt!"_

His wound didn't hurt so much anymore; it was slowly becoming a dull ember against the sea of morphine that the nanites pumped into his veins as they dissolved the dead and damaged tissue and replaced it, cell by cell. His breathing finally became more manageable, as the green heads-up display quickly overtook his vision.

_Bio-Nanotechnological enhancements…online. _

_Medical status…tissue repair in progress. Morphine administered. _

_Offensive weapon selection…online. _

_Hazardous radiation detection…status normal._

_Defensive polymer armor enhancement…charged._ Adrian read the lines of code and announcements as they slowly marched across his vision. He felt the vest conform to his body and harden as the charge at the bottom right of his vision read about seventy-five percent.

The ringing in his ears finally died down to the point that he was finally acutely aware that Katya was screaming at him.

"What the hell is going on?!" She yelled, staring at him. Adrian stood and felt his side, his hand only bringing dried blood back with it. Katya noticed and her eyes began to widen.

"_See?_ This is why I take this thing with me everywhere." He smiled, scolding her for the chiding he'd be given earlier about taking his vest to see Ambrose. Katya promptly shut her mouth.

Both immediately set out to re-arm. Without exchanging words, both Adrian slapped a new clip into his 9mm, holstering it. Katya set down her submachine gun for the relatively higher caliber rifle rounds of the M4. Grabbing the bandolier of contact grenades, she slipped one into the chamber with a satisfying _clunk_.

The belt of shotgun shells slung over his vest, Adrian reached for Stella. The SPAS-12 was quickly added to his HUD's inventory. Katya holstered her pistol and looked to Adrian.

"You ready?"

Adrian pumped Stella, ejecting a spent red shell. "Let's clean house."

X X X

The Rebels had set up a defensive perimeter at the "Old Statue". Not that anyone knew what it commemorated anymore. A soldier, his ancient rifle held up in defiance, was without his right arm, and was badly weathered by time. Metal from burned out cars, aluminum siding, old wooden tables, all of it was dragged into the open street around the statue, set up to offer shelter from the bullets and blue pulse rounds of the Overwatch.

Adrian and Katya dove for the cover, avoiding the Air Watch reinforcements' inaccurate fire. Shephard crawled over a group of Rebels as Katya held her rifle up over cover and let off several high-caliber rounds. The same soldier that had met them in the apartment was yelling out orders to his subordinates. When he saw Adrian moving his way, he made space for him in the small circle.

"Okay! These bastards are holed up on the other side of the square!" He cried, drawing a crude map in the dirt. "Simmons!" He said pointing at a Latin looking man. "Lob a couple of those M-83's their way, I want those augmented freaks out in the open where I can get a piece of 'em!" Simmons nodded and unclipped several M-83 frag grenades from his vest, thumbing the pins. "The rest of you, give Simmons covering fire! If you get a shot, for gods' sake, take it!" The Rebel's nodded in response. "Get to it!" He looked to Adrian and waved him near.

"How many?" Shephard cried over the gunfire. The Rebel shook his head.

"Too many. Five, maybe six fireteams." The man grimaced. The military terminology resonated with Shephard. The man looked to be mid forties, age lines crisscrossing his face, reminding Adrian of a certain Marine Engineer. The memory of Jackson was all too evident, and the emptiness in his chest grew larger as the thought of that kind of comradeship between soldiers was reawakened.

"What branch were you in?" Adrian asked, a seemingly unimportant answer amidst the fighting. The older man looked at him bewildered.

"Army. Rangers." Adrian quickly looked over the cover and saw the two-dozen Overwatch soldiers across the way.

"Look, give me two men and we'll make our way through the adjacent building and flank them out of their cover. Then you can have the rest of your men take them out from over here. Hooah!?" The older man's eyes narrowed as his ears feasted on the ancient rally cry of the Rangers. He stuck his hand out and Adrian took it.

"Hooah, soldier!" Their hands clasped tightly. "The name's Dirk."

"Adrian." Shephard replied. Katya tapped his shoulder violently.

"I hate to interrupt this touching moment, but we gotta do somethin' about these guys!" Dirk nodded and waved two men over.

"Steinburg! Kowalski! Get your sorry asses over here!" The two men were almost instantly at his side. "You two follow Adrian, you're going to kick those bastards out of their cover and give the rest of us a chance at some trophies!" The two soldiers nodded. Dirk nodded to Shephard, "I just you know what the hell you're doing, soldier."

X X X

Adrian body-checked the decrepit wooden door open, his shotgun leading the rest of them into the room. The plan was simple; maneuver around the side of this building to out behind the Combine.

Shephard's nostrils flared as he sighed. _But it's never_ that_ easy, is it?_ His suspicions were proved correct as a Combine soldier burst through a door at the top of the stairs. His submachine gun peppered the lobby, causing Adrian and his crew to take cover. Kowalski turned to fire his AK-47, and Adrian heard the soldier grunt in pain. Taking a dive out of cover, Shephard caught the soldier reaching for his fallen weapon. Stella roared in fury as the soldier took two shells in the chest.

Hitting the ground, Adrian had barely enough time to move out of the way as another set of soldiers entered the building from the back.

"Aww _fuck_." Adrian heard Steinburg groan. "Elites!" He was able to cry out before his voice was drowned out in blue pulse fire. Steinburg took cover as the blue beams of plasma dug super-heated holes into the wall. Shephard got to his feet and sidled up against the wall and turned around the corner to bring his shotgun up when he found himself face-to-face with a white armor-clad soldier. The Elite wasn't Aldrich, as Shephard had momentarily feared, but an Elite was still an Elite. The soldier was caught off guard and backpeddled for a moment, but Adrian was on him faster than he could react.

Shephard grabbed the relatively soft joint of the soldier's neck. As if on cue, millions of tiny nanites in his arm muscle suddenly began minutely shocking the muscle fibers, causing his fist to clench with much more pressure than any normal human. The Soldier gagged for a moment before Adrian was greeted with the sickening crack ofhis adversary's neck. The soldier dropped his pulse rifle, which fell to the floor, letting off several stray blue rounds into the group of soldiers at the end of the hall.

Using the Elite's body as a shield, Adrian grabbed the rifle and retreated behind the corner. He could see his two comrades behind cover. Looking down at the pulse rifle, he slung Stella behind his back and carefully shouldered the surprisingly light rifle. It truly looked like something out of science fiction, and Adrian bet it fired like it. His fingers felt along the underside of the barrel before he came across another button, as he thumbed it he could his comrades yell at him not to.

Too late, the hair-trigger response of the Overwatch Standard Issue Pulse Rifle released the singularity charge as it rocketed out from the barrel of the gun. Adrian, not expecting the momentum of the ball of compressed matter and energy, was flung back against the wall. The projectile bounced against the ceiling, the floors, and eventually devoured the group of soldiers at the end of the hallway.

His breathing labored and rapid, Shephard looked down at the new killing machine he had at his disposal.

Kowalski and Steinburg watched Adrian as he stared almost lovingly down at his newly acquired AR2. Finally he looked up and grinned menacingly. "Oh look, a new toy."

Dirk unloaded another clip uselessly. The 7.62mm rounds pinged ineffectively against the rigid steel of their enemy's cover. Katya took several well-aimed shots with her M4, then crouched, looking Dirk in the eyes. "They're not coming out." Dirk nodded gravely.

One of the Rebels next to the two began shouting, and pointing over their cover. Everyone looked over to the Combine side of the divide and saw a charged singularity ball slice through the Combine fireteams. Turning men into evaporating dust, the one shot had decimated their ranks. The one's left alive ran out into the open, trying to escape the holocaust, only to find themselves the targets of the Rebels.

"Come on boys!" Dirk cried, taking aim. "Give 'em what for!" His rifle began to cry it's battle hymn as Katya and the rest of the Rebels joined him. The surviving Combine were littered with bullets, until a chilling silence fell over the sunset-covered square.

Katya scanned the other side through the scope of her rifle. She heard boot steps from behind the Combine cover and held her finger heavy on the trigger.

The white fatigues, the black vest.

_And that shit-eating grin._ Adrian strode out from behind the cover, rifle cradled in his arms, and a smile trained in Katya's direction. The Rebel's broke out cheering.

Dirk quickly broke up the celebration. "Alright people! That was good, but we gotta take our fight to the monastery now! Freeman's up there and he needs our help!" The Rebel's began to reload before heading doggedly out to battle once more.

One Rebel, though was busy tweaking a radio. "Sir!" She yelled to Dirk. "Sir! I think…I think Ambrose just radioed in. He… He." She stuttered, listening to the radio closely. "He says Freeman's taken care of it! All by himself!"

"Jesus, is there anything that guy _can't do_?" One rebel gasped.

"I hear he took on a whole squad 'a CP's, unarmed, and won!" Another girl cooed. Katya looked over to Adrian who was hanging his head, a look of disgust plastered on his face. As the Rebel's rejoiced, Katya met Adrian in the middle of the square, amidst the dead soldiers. Shephard had knelt down and was collecting pulse rifle ammunition belts off the dead.

"That was some pretty good work there, trooper." She said, half-sarcastic. Shephard stood up and looked her in the eyes, seeing through the sarcasm, to the thankfulness within.

"Anytime…" Shephard said as he saw Edgar approaching them. He spoke to Dirk and then headed over in their direction.

"Alright people, enough celebratin'! We got dead and wounded to move! Bradley, get these guys to triage." He said, pointing to his medic.

Edgar folded his hands and hummed approvingly as he approached them. "Your actions have saved the lives of the people of this village, I am lucky enough to call them 'friends', as I shall now refer to you."

Katya smiled politely. "You're welcome Edgar." The Vortigaunt held his hands out in invitation.

"Please, the Ambrose requests your immediate presence." Adrian turned his eyebrow up.

"What for? There's plenty of dead and wounded to be moved." Edgar recoiled, nodding his head knowingly.

"Yes, but there is someone he would like you to meet."

"Who?" Shephard asked, cocking his weapon, knowing exactly who it was.

"The Freeman…"

**A/N: Okay, so at least you know I'm not dead! My laptop went on strike, and eventually died as I was moving back to the States from New Zealand. Doesn't make for good writing conditions! Hope someone's still reading this thing! **

**So I guess you guessed it. Adrian and Gordon meeting?! Blasphemy! Well… not as blasphemous as you may think! I thought about it, and if I take creative license, I can say that Gordon spent a night at St. Olga. And since Shephard is already there, couldn't they meet? We'll see next time, very, very soon here!**

**And I apologize in advance for the shameful ripping off I did with the "New Toy" line. That's a reference to Super Chocolate Bear's line in his incredible Half-Life novelization, which is actually a rip off of Pisces amazing vignette fic! But then again, I think we writers should make blatant shout outs to each other!**

**To all of you who have been reviewing me I just have one thing to say: You are the best part about this site.**


	34. News From the Front

_I've got this feeling that there's something that I missed  
(I could do most anything to you...)  
Don't you breathe  
Something happened, that I never understood  
You can't leave  
Every second, dripping off my fingertips  
Wage your war  
Another soldier, says he's not afraid to die  
Well I am scared  
In slow motion, the blast is beautiful  
Doors slam shut  
A clock is ticking, but it's hidden far away  
Safe and sound_

_Somewhere A Clock Is Ticking – Snow Patrol_

-Shephard's Epic-

-News From the Front-

The dark room was only lit by the blue glow of the bank of computer monitors.

"When did you get the call?" The man stood staring at the myriad of blue glowing screens and the lines of information that cascaded across them. His uniform glowed in the dim light; its white urban camouflage turned a dull blue. Dark aviator glasses, however unneeded in the darkness of the operations room, covered his eyes, masking the age-wearied eyes. Wisps of smoke trailing from the cigarette he absent-mindedly rolled back and forth between his lips.

"0400 this morning, sir." The young technical officer, garbed in a similar uniform, replied, her fingers flying across the keyboard, bringing up communication logs. Her superior sighed and crossed his arms, revealing a patch on his left shoulder. A picture of the western hemisphere, crossed by an anchor, topped by an enigmatic eagle the Latin words "Semper Fidelis" _Always Faithful_, emblazoned below it. Atop the patch, a hastily added stitching inscribed the words "Lest We Forget" crudely.

The officer took a drag of his cigarette and turned to look behind him. In the darkness he could only see the glowing red eyes of his Vortigaunt comrade. "What d'ya reckon, Sherlock? Heard anything over the Vortessence?" The creature plodded into the light, his smooth, green skin reflecting the blue computer screens' glow.

"We have communed with one who is close to the Shephard, he senses no false veils about him. But there is something…" The Vortigaunt hesitated and tilted his head away from the glare, which was disturbing, given their species' unnerving sense of calm. "…else. Guiding him, watching him. We must meet with him, to truly pierce the shadow's that surround the unconscious mind."

Blowing smoke out of his nostrils, the man sighed. "So you're saying you need to see him in person. Make sure he ain't a phony."

"Or a Combine flash clone." Another male voice behind them spoke. Both turned and watched another uniformed soldier walk into the room. His arm sported a band with a red cross on it, designating the soldier a medic. The man, his once boyish face showing signs of both age, and the constant struggle, handed his superior a manila folder. "They hit Reno, no survivors."

"Shit." His aviator-sporting superior didn't contain his disappointment.

"They were procuring heavy duty ordinance out of White Sands Missile Range. Thought we had reliable intel that the Combine hadn't raided the old base yet. Guess we were wrong."

"We were tricked." His superior growled, reading over the report.

The medic nodded, knowing that was probably the case. "From what we could glean after the fact, they sent a team out of the Reno base to grab what they could. The team went off the grid for two days. When they reported back, they were let in the front door, and the bastards wasted the whole base."

"This is truly a dark day…" The Vortigaunt lamented, his eyes narrowing in grief at their loss.

"Those bastards are clever, we get a hold of one of the bodies?" The medic nodded.

"Yeah, well pieces of one… The eggheads are picking him apart, but from what they can tell, they've only got a shelf-life of about 72 hours." The medic looked over to the computer terminal, noting the communications log. "So, is it true?"

His superior didn't meet his gaze, going over the casualty list instead. _Shit,_ he thought, _we don't have seventy men just lying around…_ He sifted through the papers, finally replying. "Where's Tower, he should be here."

The medic hesitated. "He's in the brig. Drunk and disorderly."

This time his superior looked up. "Again?"

The medic shrugged. "He had misgivings with the General over troop and armor deployments to the front." He said, putting it as mildly as possible.

As if on cue, the female tech began resuming her normal duties; monitoring the battle comms for the current engagement.

"_Shit, we're getting pounded out here, L.T. What's the sitrep with those reinforcements?" _Shells explored in the background as the chatter continued.

"_ETA twelve minutes. You hold those Boeing factories you hear me?! Don't give them an inch!" _

"_Command this is Sgt. Eversman! We need a bird here ASAP! I got dead and wounded coming out of my ass here!" _

"_They've mined Interstate five! I've lost five APC's and two tanks already! Command, please advise!" _

The officer turned and snapped at the tech. "Turn that off." The woman immediately shut off the military chatter. He looked at the medic and sighed. "Today isn't the day for good news, I guess. But anyways, the Major should have come to me with his problems, not take it out on the general and a bottle of Jack."

The medic could do nothing but continue to shrug. "But what's going on here?" He pointed to the communication logs still displayed on the screens.

Still combing the report, his superior replied. "Long range comm's picked up a transmission from one of our mirrors in Asia. Said the _resistance_," He sarcastically spat. "…had gotten a hold of a guy calling himself Shephard." He explained, handing the medic a small tablet with scratchings of information, age, rank, serial number and description.

"Bullshit, he'd be at least forty." The medic spat.

"Which is why I wanna get up close and personal. If it's a flash clone, I wanna know how and why the Combine made 'im." The medic continued reading the short notes taken from the transmission.

"Shit, he escaped a shakedown by Nova Prospekt Elites?" His superior nodded.

"Sherlock here seems to think he's the real deal." Putting down the note pad, the medic walked up to the communications log.

"They say anything about a meeting place? Time?" the officer shook his head.

"Somewhere on the eastern coast. Said they'd radio when Shephard had made it to them." He walked over to a console attached to the myriad of computer screens and pulled up a map of Eurasia. "He's here, near City 17." An area of Eastern Europe blinked green. "He's taking one of the razor trains east."

"So you gonna send a detachment to pick him up?"

"I'm going, and you are too, so is Tower." The medic looked surprised, but nodded. The officer turned to the tech. "I need two five man fireteams and a bird. We'll be dusting off tomorrow."

The tech nodded as her fingers flew across the console. "I don't know what I can scrounge up on short notice. All our resources are being pooled for the Seattle Front." Graphs and troop deployments flashed across the screen in an incomprehensible blur.

"Give me something I can work with." The officer growled, his cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. The tech redoubled her efforts and finally pulled up several squad profiles.

"Looks like delta squad from Tango Company is on R&R, just back from the front." The officer jumped on it.

"Great, requisition them for me." The medic frowned in disapproval.

"The general ain't, gonna like it, they're just back from the battle, and we need all the men we can get."

The officer took a drag of the cigarette then dropped it on the floor, stamping it out with his boot. "Adrian's worth a hundred men, and the general knows it. Besides, you tell those leathernecks were off to get the Great Adrian Shephard, and they're walk through fire to get a spot on the mission. Besides…" His face tilted down slightly. "We owe 'im."

The medic nodded in agreement. "Okay, well I'm gonna see what I can do about getting Tower out of the brig."

The female tech looked up at her superior, he face full of questions. "Sir? Is it true? Is he really back?"

Colonel Jackson turned to her and put a hand reassuringly on his comrade's shoulder. "I hope so. I sure hope so."

**A/N: Wanted to wet your appetite for a little Jackson, Tower, and Wilkes action! Hope I did a good job at slightly hinting that the Resistance effort over the pond is slightly more organized than the Lambda Resistance in the East, I always had a vision of the remaining forces from the Seven Hour War being more hardened in training and resolve. This was a slightly shorter chapter because I had a little extra time since FF seems to be having its own little tantrum today. Anyways, hope you enjoyed this chapter and please gimme feedback on it, I'm really excited to get these three guys back into the fray and find out what the hell they've been doing in our absence!**


	35. Clash of the Titans

_One last disguise_

_Pawns standing in awe of the game  
Of the stage  
You've worked so hard at building an empire  
Of secret rooms to display yourself  
And add to your wealth  
The sting of.  
Oh, it stings  
When I saw it all come crashing  
I witnessed the sound of a million voices  
Screaming for a public hanging_

_So hide yourself, hide, hide yourself for now._

_We caught you plotting murder  
And now the Tide is Turning  
We'll light our souls, heal our bones  
Upon your empire burning_

_The Spy Hunter – Project 86_

-Shephard's Epic-

-Clash of the Titans-

The last of the wounded near the old statue were loaded onto stretchers as Adrian and Katya followed Edgar down to the Library. Walking down the street they could hear scattered shots inside the tenement blocks, echoes of the teams sent to dispatch the remaining parasites.

"Jesus…" Katya whispered as they strode by the various scenes of destruction. What had been a safe haven only hours ago was now a ruined wasteland. Adrian said nothing, his Overwatch Standard Issue Pulse Rifle held confidently in his hands.

They passed a triage tent and Adrian saw Dirk rushing around rebels lying about on stretchers. As they walked by, the man looked up, locking eyes with Adrian, nothing need be said. They were both soldiers; they knew about the burden of responsibility.

_Responsibility._

He'd teach that bastard, Freeman, about responsibility.

His grip on the rifle tightened as they approached the Library. This time the guard on it was much more alert than before. They inspected the visitors and let them through. The walk down the hall was unbearable, the anticipation palpable. Katya had already holstered her weapons, but Adrian wasn't about to let his opportunity slip away.

Turning a corner, Edgar pushed lightly on the door into the study, and Adrian's blood began to rush to his head, the euphoria of revenge, of exacting a debt in blood from that monster who had created all this, began to pump his veins to bursting with adrenaline.

But there was no Hazardous Environment suit-clad hero, no messianic figure waiting for them in the study. Only another rebel conversing with Ambrose over a map were there to greet them. As Adrian's blood lust began to subside, and the disappointment take over, Ambrose turned and grinned broadly.

"Well, well, my boy! Good job! I hear you were the key figure in our push against the Combine!" The rebel turned as well and upon seeing Shephard straightened up and saluted. As Adrian and Katya came close enough the rebel, who looked to be about mid-thirties, sporting a buzz-cut with a goatee, extended his hand.

"Sir, Commander Dirk Weinman told us about your actions at the statue. I want to thank you for saving my men, and this town." Returning the salute, an odd feeling came over Shephard. No longer seeing red, his feelings of hate for Gordon were soon replaced by that old feeling of camaraderie among soldiers. Though the man in front of him could have scarcely been seven or eight when the Combine took over, Adrian felt he knew the true meaning of being a soldier.

"It was nothing." Shephard replied, setting his rifle down and taking the soldier's hand. But before the soldier could retort, Ambrose interrupted.

"It was sure somethin', alright! Now I was just drawing up a map for you two, I suspect you're gonna want to be headin' out here soon, it'll only be a matter of time before the Combine start blocking road access. Besides, Fishman'll be storming Nova Prospekt mighty soon…"

"I was under the impression we were to be meeting with the Freeman." The Vortigaunt interjected, his voice thick with hope.

Ambrose's expression immediately turned a slight pink with disappointment as he turned to mark something on the map. "Oh yes… well he, he felt it would be most prudent if he was back on his way. I asked him to stay the night, get some rest and head out tomorrow morning, but he was pretty insistent. I had someone of the boys refit him and his car as best we could, but…" He looked up with a forced smile. "He's just about to head out."

Katya could see the disappointment on the Vortigaunt's alien face. She was surprised when Adrian finally stepped forward. He turned to look to her. "Take of the preparations with Ambrose okay?" He whispered to her. Looking at Ambrose he smiled politely. "I'll leave my friend to work out the plans with you, and see what I can do to help the wounded." Adrian was off before Katya had a chance to stop him. Flying out the door, Katya had a good idea where he was going, and what he planned to do.

She only hoped he had the good sense not to do it.

X X X

The sun had finally set over the coast as Adrian jogged towards the entrance to the town. The old street lamps buzzed with the hum of electricity spewed out by Vortigaunt powered generators as Shephard slowed his pace to a brisk walk, nearing the welder's shop. Everyone was either on guard duty, or busy tending to the wounded as Shephard slowly and quietly opened the door, listening closely to the single set of footsteps and the clank of tools.

Gripping the doorknob tightly, he silently opened the door. His heart pounded so loud, he was sure Freeman must have heard it. As he quietly swung the door open he found the armor-clad rogue scientist kneeling at the side of an improvised dune buddy, a red crowbar securing a bag of supplies to the side.

Realizing he'd left his rifle in the Library, Adrian smiled as he reached for the knife attached to his vest. A personal kill, a silent kill, but painful nonetheless. He wanted Freeman to see him, to know who killed him.

Shephard would complete his mission, albeit twenty-years too late.

But he could live with that.

Sliding the bowie knife out of its sheath, he saw Freeman's ears prickle, and as a trained Special Operations soldier, Adrian knew that he no longer had the element of surprise. Gordon straightened up and turned around, crowbar held defensively in his right hand.

The two stood there for what seemed like ages, studying each other. Adrian saw Gordon's eyes widen, and his grip on the crowbar tighten. This was just like the meeting he had with his mysterious benefactor, had Freeman actually been there? Did he recognize Adrian?

"You." Freeman whispered. That said it all.

"Yeah, me." Adrian hissed. The scientist pushed his glasses back up his nose as he eyed the knife.

"That's a big knife." He said, matter-of-factly. Adrian didn't give a moment longer and lunged. Freeman had been expecting that though, and spun to the left, avoiding the strike. Shephard hit the side of the car, but rolled along it to the right as Freeman countered with a powerful swing from the crowbar. Metal rang out as Freeman missed.

With his free hand, Shephard pushed Gordon back, knocking him off balance. All his senses tingling, Adrian drank in the feeling, the rapture of finally engaging his adversary. He'd slit the bastard's throat if it was the last thing he ever did. The knife in his hand shot out like a bullet and jammed into the hard armor of the HEV suit. The titanium blade didn't make a dent on the futuristic polymer, but the force did knock Freeman on his back.

Seeing his opening, Shephard jumped on top on Gordon, clasping the blade in both hands and brought it down in a swift motion. Freeman's enhanced reflexes gave him the chance to bring up the crowbar, keeping Shephard from making the final, killing blow. They laid there, blade inches from Gordon's face, held back only by the strength of the suit. Both men, with the strength of titans, wrestled for dominance. Adrian could taste the blood as his muscles quavered, straining to overcome Freeman's resistance.

Freeman finally broke the deadlock by bringing up one leg and kicking Adrian in the midsection. Reeling backwards, Gordon swung the crowbar in a wide arc, winning a glancing blow against Adrian's cheek. The shock caused Adrian to drop the knife. Seeing the knife on the floor, Freeman kicked it away as he stepped forward, ready to swing his ubiquitous melee tool with deadly force.

Shephard's eyes watered with pain, as he tasted blood seeping into his mouth from a large cut in his cheek. He felt the swing of the crowbar before he saw it. With one hand Adrian caught the crowbar mid-swing and wrestled it from his opponent's incredibly strong grip, throwing it behind the car. With Freeman momentarily still, Shephard brought his left hand out and threw a powerful punch to his right cheek. Gordon staggered back and fumbled with his glasses. Shephard, seeing red, lunged forward, grabbing Gordon by the neck, squeezed with all his might.

Soon he felt his opponent's hands around his neck, the two locked in a battle to see who could break whose neck first. The blood rushed to Adrian's face, as both him and Gordon Freeman coughed and sputtered for air. Feeling began to leave his hands, and Adrian finally let go, dropping to the ground, and coughing up blood. He braced for what he knew was coming, Freeman wasn't going to give him a moment to catch his breath. He tried to force his body to stand, to fight, but he could little more than crawl up to the side of the car and prop himself up against it.

Only to find that Gordon Freeman was doing the exact same thing.

Coughing and hacking, the hazard-suited figure sat on the ground, back up against the side of the scout car, as he felt the large cut on his right cheek. Adrian felt his own abrasion on the left side of his face, sensitive to the touch. Though in no state to fight, Adrian wasn't above name-calling.

"You…You bastard." He wheezed, his neck still sore. "You…murderer." He saw Gordon pull his knees to his chest, still wheezing himself.

"Who…who are you?" Gordon knew exactly who he was, but he had to hear it.

"I'm one of the men sent to…to stop you." Adrian said, his hands feebly feeling around for his knife as his sore neck turned pathetically to shoot Freeman an evil glare.

"You… you all died. He… he told me you all _died_."_He_, Shephard mentally gasped.

"You stole nearly twenty years of my life!" Adrian croaked. Gordon only pulled his knees in tighter.

"You think you're the only one who lost all that time?" He whispered. He lifted his face and turned his sore neck to meet Shephard's glare with an apologetic frown. "Almost everyone I ever knew is dead, and the few that are left are risking their lives to correct something we never should have tampered with…" He groaned as he lifted his gaze to the ceiling.

"My friends are…are_dead,_ because of what you and your egghead friends messed with! And now you roll around with a messiah complex, the savior of man!" Adrian tried to push himself up, but he was still too weak, and Freeman didn't look like he'd be getting up anytime soon.

"You think… think I_want_ this? You think I want to be part of all _this_? I'm no savior." He said, his voice full of despair. "I'm no messiah. I'm just trying to save my friend. He's being held in Nova Prospekt. Saving the world just happens to be part of the…the plan. _His _plan."

Shephard felt his heart crawl its way up into his throat.

"He…he…" But Freeman let out a low moan.

"He's been using me…_us_, since this whole foul debacle occurred. He _orchestrated_ it, don't you see? And he… he wont let us go… until we've done what he wants." He looked at Adrian, pleading him to understand with his soft green eyes. "There's a reason we're both alive, he needs us."

There, in that small workshop, bloodied and bruised, two anachronisms, men out of time, sat in silence. Displaced by almost two decades, these two individuals, fate bringing them together as foes, had been derailed from its preset course by a last minute decision _not_ to act, not to give into the baser instincts of revenge and survival.

Looking at Gordon, a man worshipped by so many, Adrian now saw a broken man, as lost and confused as himself. He wasn't interested in fame or glory; he wanted to keep what little friends he had left in this desolate world alive. Shephard's eyes began to water slightly as he remembered his own close family of friends. Though not related by blood, sometimes men found bonds made of thicker things than that sanguine substance.

Looking up, Adrian saw the silhouette of that suited figure, straightening his tie, standing in the threshold of the entrance to the workshop. He looked to Shephard, then to Gordon, his cold, analytical gaze never wavering, as his form began to dissolve from this plane of existence.

"You're right." Adrian finally whispered. "He wont let us go…" Bringing himself to his feet. "Until it's finished, whatever _it_ is." Shephard offered a hand up to Gordon. The scientist looked up, surprised at the gesture. After several hesitant seconds he reached out and took Adrian's gloved hand in his own. Lifting him up, there little more to say. Gordon leaned down and picked up the crowbar, attaching it to his hip. Adrian reached down and collected his knife, resheathing it slowly.

There was nothing more to say. But as a gesture of good faith, Adrian walked over to the large mechanical door and slammed his fist into the nearby button. The metal door noisily slid open.

Grabbing the rungs of the of skeletal scout buggy, Gordon swung himself inside. Checking the myriad of gauges presented, he finally nodded to himself.

"You gonna be okay?" Adrian finally asked. Gordon locked eyes with him, the wound on his cheek already showing signs of healing. _Guess that suit must be good for more than impressing stockholders,_ Adrian observed. Gordon simply nodded.

Putting the car in gear, Shephard lifted his hand in a "thumbs-up". Gordon hesitated, then lifted his down hand, but surprised Shephard when it saluted him. The two men locked eyes, Freeman accelerated forward, loudly leaving Adrian in the dust.

He followed the car outside and saw it rocket down the road, out of town, following the last rays of the sun that had already hid behind the hills.

"And here I was, actually _worried_ you'd do it." That angelic laugh lifted Adrian's heart as he turned to face Katya. Leaning up against the wall she smiled at him knowingly. "Whoa, nice shiner there, tiger. Did the mean old scientist give you a booboo?"

Shephard turned and started heading down the street, brushing her off. As he passed Katya she fell into stride with him still giggling as she scrutinized the now fading bruise on his cheek.

"Just kidding!" She chided. "Besides, judging by what you look like, I'd hate to see what Freeman walked away with." She playfully elbowed him.

Shephard simply smiled. He felt lighter, with the weight of all that hatred and fear lifted from off his shoulders. His journey was by no means over, but at least, he mused as he put his arm around Katya's shoulder, it wouldn't be as hard.

**A/N: Hope that all lived up to your standards! Tell me what you think! And check out the "Half-Life" Forum in the Half-Life forums section, admined by Super Chocolate Bear and Moderated by myself! Seriously people, its just me and him bouncing random thoughts back and forth, and the Half-Life forum space as a whole is rather lack-luster!**

**But seriously, more than any other chapter, review this one, I really want to know what people thought!**

**Cheers,**

**Blind**


	36. Great Green Abyss

_Under blue moon I saw you_

_Under blue moon I saw you  
So soon you'll take me  
Up in your arms  
Too late to beg you or cancel it  
Though I know it must be the killing time  
Unwillingly mine_

_Fate  
Up against your will  
Through the thick and thin  
He will wait until  
You give yourself to him_

_Echo and the Bunny Man – The Killing Moon_

-Shephard's Epic-

-The Great Green Abyss-

Shephard awoke the next morning to the sound of hammering. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he instinctively reached over next to him, and frowned when he realized that the space next to him was empty. He thought back to the night before, how he and Katya had stayed up in the small apartment, sharing a bottle of what passed for liquor in this brave new world. They laughed and talked about things that had nothing to do with life in this day and age, about things that shouldn't have concerned a person living under the oppression of an interdimensional alien race.

Katya had looked so beautiful in the candlelight, and Adrian did his best to refrain from leaning forward and taking her in his arms. He remembered sighing in relief, content that they were finally reconnecting.

At one point Shephard remembered Katya pouring herself another drink, then handing him the label-less bottle, before she brought the conversation to a screeching halt.

"So what was it like before the war?" Her eyes, which had for so long been filled with that glimmer of happiness and contentment, suddenly darkened slightly.

Adrian suddenly found the bottom of his clay cup very interesting. What could he tell her? That the world before the Combine was paradise compared to this? That good men served daily to protect freedoms that she only dreamed of? A world where people freely exchanged ideas without fear of reprisal, of retaliation. A world, as far as Adrian was concerned, that teetered on the edge of a cultural renaissance? She saw the sadness in his eyes, and quickly switched the subject.

"So you knew my uncle? Dmitri?" Adrian pulled the bottle over and poured himself another shot, shooting back the fiery liquid. Wincing and wiping his hand across his mouth, he nodded.

"Best damn company CO I ever served under. The brass never gave him his due, though. Got passed over time and time again for promotion." Adrian had an idea why, though. It was common knowledge that Destovaya was a defector. He'd felt the crumbling socialist regime too much to handle, and offered his services, by which he meant his valuable intel on Soviet military hardware and procedure, to the US military. Adrian assumed that the Marines offered him a position as Company CO in exchange for his loyalty.

"Dad never talked about him much… I could tell he did approve of what he had done." Katya said, staring at the table. "He said he had betrayed the motherland. He wasn't worth our time."

Adrian sighed and took the bottle, taking a shot straight from it. "Your uncle did what he thought was right. He was a good man, and a damn fine soldier." He said, hitting the table with the bottle for added effect.

Katya was silent for awhile. "You… you had some good friends in the army?"

Adrian chuckled. "Not the army, we're the, or I guess, "were", the marines. And yeah… I had some good friends."

"You sound like you think they're already dead." Katya frowned.

Adrian stared at the bottom of his cup. Hadn't Edgar said that some of the people he had known were still among the living? His heart was beating so loud; he guessed Katya could hear it. The silence lasted for so long, Shephard contemplating his old comrades' fate.

Katya finally looked around. "Well look at the time. I might be wanting to get to bed." Adrian looked around, realizing that there wasn't a clock, but understood her anyways. Nodding without saying a word, he stood up, wobbly at first, but got his bearings. Katya stepped forward, and Adrian, in his inebriated state, leaned forward, intent on kissing her, but Katya sidestepped the kiss and hugged him tight. "Goodnight, Shephard." She whispered, before turning and leaving the room.

Adrian licked his lips, the dried alcohol making his stomach curdle. His eyes shut tight, trying to block out the annoying green hue of his heads up display, but to his dismay it shown brightly in the darkness behind his eye-lids. Rubbing his eyes pitifully he resigned to get out of bed. He stretched and noticed his side no longer hurt. Poking a finger into the hole in his fatigues, he breathed a sigh of relief when he felt newly repaired skin underneath.

There was a brief knock at his door before Katya let herself in. She walked towards the small table with the rifles laying on it, but stopped mid-stride and stared at Adrian.

"You're not out of bed? It's almost noon!" She scolded him. Shephard grimaced, causing her to laugh. "Come on, we need to pack up, Edgar says we're moving out." Swinging his feet over the side of the bed, Shephard stood.

Rubbing the back of his head, he watched Katya check the magazines in their weapons. "Moving out?"

Katya checked the action on her M4 and replied without looking. "He's gonna help us navigate through the forest so we can get to Nova Prospekt when Freeman does." She slapped a fresh magazine into the rifle and slung it behind her back, moving next to their collection of pistols. "Say's we need to make a supply run on the way, though."

Adrian shook his head as he looked to the bedside table, where the small memory stick lay. He wondered just where this thing would take them.

X X X

Stella's weight securely slung against him, Adrian strode down the street, past the construction that was going on in a continued effort to repair the damage done by the last skirmish, and towards what he was told was the staging area for excursions into the wastelands.

A small industrial complex, enclosed by a city block of rusty chain link fence, stood out on a small jutting bit of land across the bay from the monastery. A Kamaz military supply truck, a myriad of workers surrounding it, packing boxes into it, stood in the middle of an otherwise empty warehouse.

Walking up, Adrian could see their Vortigaunt ally, Edgar, standing next to his companion Ambrose. Ambrose and the military leader Dirk conversed over a supply manifest as Adrian and Katya joined them.

Ambrose looked up. "Ah Corporal Shephard, Ms. Destovaya, you seem ready to depart." He grinned. Shephard nodded and caught a glimpse of Rebels opening one of the crates. Among the polystyrene packaging, Adrian could see the outlines of several RPG-7's. Dirk saw Adrian make the connection.

"On your way through the forest, we need you to deliver a weapons cache to a rebel base near an old pre-war mining town." He gave the manifest to Ambrose and walked over to Adrian, speaking in a lower voice. "They've had reports of these things, 'bout the size of pre-war Gorillas. They call 'em Hunters, anyway they need a little more fire power to take 'em out, and your standard Remington just isn't cutting it."

Dirk's eyes closed solemnly. "I hear they lose ten men a week to those things." He straightened up and turned to Katya. "Edgar here is going to guide you to the base."

Edgar bowed slightly, a universal gesture among all Vortigaunts. "We would most enjoy aiding the Shephard on his journey East." Katya smiled politely.

"Thank you Edgar." She turned to Shephard. "Ambrose has told me that Freeman'll be ontop of Nova Prospekt before tomorrow night." The old fisherman nodded.

"Yup, just got a report in from Light House Point, say they just sent him on his way." Dirk gestured to a map on a mobile corkboard.

"We're here, almost halfway between Ravenholm and Nova Prospekt." He traced his finger along the coast, towards the Combine prison. "Now Freeman's gonna follow the coastal highway, and eventually huff it to the Vortigaunt camp near the Coastal entrance to the prison." He tapped his finger on the large, red area marked NOVA PROSPEKT. "He's gonna assault it and make enough of a confusion for you two to slip onto one of the East Bound trains." The old soldier folded his arms and chewed what must have been tobacco. "That is if he doesn't blow _that_ up too." From the look on his face, Adrian was surprised to see the man wasn't joking.

Sure their short scuffle hadn't given Adrian adequate time to size up Freeman as an opponent, but Shephard doubted that bi-spectacled buffoon could cause _that_ much damage. A rebel walked up to Dirk and whispered something in his ear, to which Dirk nodded. The rebel waved off in the direction of two others sitting next to a large plastic carrying case. The two guards leapt to work, both picking up the container and sliding it on the back of the truck.

Dirk signaled for Adrian and the two walked up to the back of the truck. Adrian read along the side of the box and saw FGM-148 printed on the side, PROPERTY OF UNITED STATES ARMY, printed on the other. Shephard immediately knew what he was looking at.

"Jesus." He said under his breath. "I didn't think I'd ever see anything like this again…" Dirk slid the locks aside and opened up the case. The long, green tube sat elegantly in the form fitting foam. The FMG-148 Javelin anti-tank missile launcher was a sight to look at. Fire and forget, they called it, get a lock on and you're golden, or use direct fire to track your target and give it one hell of a surprise." Adrian had never held one save for a training exercise, but it had proven quite an impressive weapon. "What the hell are you shooting? Tanks out there?"

Dirk shook his head. "Look we just found a cache of these things, and the coastal regions have been having problems with the Combine's aerial assault platforms, gunships. They move too fast for an RPG-7." He closed the case. "I just want you to know it's there…" Shephard nodded.

The two men stood at the back of the truck, facing each other. Shephard felt the moment strain on too long as he felt for the right way to say goodbye. But before he could put out his hand to shake, Dirk stood at attention and saluted Adrian.

"Corporal, it was an honor to serve with you." Shephard returned the salute, and then began loading.

Their cargo securely fastened, Edgar and his charges climbed into the truck. Katya slid behind the wheel with Edgar next to her, while Shephard rode shotgun. As he shut the door, Ambrose walked up to the open window.

"Corporal, I don't know how to thank you for saving our town." Adrian took the old man's out-stretched hand and smiled awkwardly, not sure how to reply other than "you're welcome." He wasn't some charismatic hero, he was just some dumb grunt with some real _dumb_ luck. "There's something about you…" The old man began cryptically. "The Vortigaunts see it, and I see it too." With that, the withered, liver-spotted hand slipped out of Adrian's grip and the old fisherman walked away.

Dirk yelled to two rebels stationed near the large warehouse doors. They scrambled to attention and pulled the large aluminum gate open. Katya started the engine and they slowly pulled out.

Over the chug of the old truck's engine, Adrian saw Dirk wave to them and yell out, "When you get there, don't be surprised if some of them act sorta… _funny_, they've been out there awhile!"

X X X

It was a long time before anyone spoke, save for Edgar, who gave Katya directions as needed.

"It all looks so old…" Adrian mumbled, more to himself than to anyone else, as they bounced along the foliage-overgrown path Edgar had directed them to, off the main coastal highway and into the green abyss of forest beyond. Every now and them they'd pass the remains of cabins or saw mills, buildings of all types and possible uses, that were in the middle of being taken over by the moss and trees that surrounded them. It was as if the planet, in some small respect, was taking back what it once had lost, slowly, but surely.

"The Combine rarely come out here. Sure they send out scouting parties, search and destroy drones, but for the most part, they figure that the area is too wide and too dense to search adequately, not when they've already got their hands full controlling the citizens they already have." Katya told him. "The Resistance uses the forest, well the areas that are safe enough that is, as a staging ground." He saw Katya lean her head out the window slightly. She sucked in a lung full of clean air. "People feel freer out here, where the Combine can't tell you what to do."

"What do you mean by safe areas?" Edgar leaned forward in his seat, studying a small map.

"When our two worlds were intertwined for those short months, when the portals raged across your world, some of the local flora and fauna of our borderworld found themselves here." Edgar explained. "Since then they've found ways to… acclimate themselves to your planet."

Adrian could see Katya sigh slightly, Vortiguants always had an almost Shakespearian way of explaining things. "He means all their lions, tigers and bears are now living in our forests. No where is safe anymore." Katya's attention was soon stolen, though, as she leaned forward, over the steering wheel. "What the hell?"

Adrian followed her gaze and saw the barricade ahead of them. The dirt road, which looked beaten and well-traveled, ended abruptly at the foot of a twenty-foot tall hastily constructed barricade. Katya slowed the van down to a crawl until it stopped several feet in front of the gate. The mists of the early morning hadn't quite fallen yet and the gate was sprinkled with the sunrise from behind the tall trees. The hulks of several burned out vehicles stood in front of the gate, which was little more than an amalgamation of several sheets of aluminum and steel which had been welded together almost at the last minute.

Adrian took the shotgun from in between his knees and checked the action as he slowly opened the door and stepped out, his boots splashing into the soft mud. He heard Katya do the same on the other side of the truck as he approached the gate. The vehicles seemed recently destroyed, in fact the scent of charred metal still wafted in the air. The gate sat between two tall, stone guard towers, equally tall fencing stretching out and into the forest. Above the guard tower a sign, in Cyrillic, was still visible through the decade of rust.

He turned to see Katya standing in awe, her rifle limp at her side, he hand over her mouth. She mouthed something that must have been an obscenity in Russian.

"This is one of the old _gulags_." She whispered. Adrian had heard about the Russian prison camps, and their use stretching all the way back to Stalinist Russia. Nova Prospekt could be counted among those still in use up to the time of the invasion. "Father had told me they hid some of them out here in the wilderness, to escape Red-Cross and UN inspection…" She turned to Edgar, still sitting in the truck.

"They didn't tell us they were using these places as bases of operation." Her voice acquiring an angered edge to it. Adrian inspected the gate, which was pockmarked with small arms fire and burn-marks, as well as something else, what looked to Adrian like huge lacerations. But what could make scratch marks that big?

Soon Katya was beside him. "Shit." She muttered, bringing her rifle up and scanning the tree line with anxiety.

Adrian followed suit, crouching down and listening intently. "What?" He whispered.

Katya didn't look at him as she replied. "Antlions."

"Ant-what?" Adrian said. But before she could reply the forest was suddenly alive as the sound of a hundred buzzing bees descended on their location. Katya's eyes bulged as she looked to Edgar.

"Antlions!" Edgar was soon out of the truck, his vision tracking the tree line as well.

"What the hell are _Antlions_?" Adrian yelled as a form burst out of the thicket and scrambled onto the road. It's thick green carapace rippled as it charged them, its mandibles clicking in hunger. Katya soon had her M4 up and firing as the creature took several rounds before going down, only to be replaced by two more.

His confusion giving way to his military instincts, Adrian raised Stella towards the oncoming creatures and let loose. One of the Antlion's claws was ripped off, causing it to face plant into the mud, a follow-up burst effectively silencing it. The monsters were snarling and crying as they crawled out of the thick under-brush that bordered the old forest road.

Edgar brought his hands together and summoned electricity from the ether, felling two of the beasts himself. Katya's rifle clicked dry as she took down another creature.

"What the hell are we going to do?" She yelled over the fighting, slapping another mag in. Adrian unloaded another shell into an oncoming alien and turned his attention to the gate. There had to be a way to open it. Then he saw it, a piece of the chain that held up the sign had come uncoupled and was hanging just low enough for Adrian to grab on to. He looked to Katya as she fired off several rounds, and Edgar as he let another burst of energy rip one of the monsters to shreds.

"I'll be right back!" He yelled over the fighting. Kayta looked back as Adrian scrambled for the gate.

"Adrian what the hell are you doing? Get back here!" Adrian, his breathing labored, gave himself a running start as he leapt for the chain. Barely catching the end of it, he held on with all his strength as he pulled himself up.

Just like in boot camp, he remembered sourly. Funny how memories can be tripped off by the slightest thing. He remembered the smug drill instructor, Sanders, who had waited for him at the top of the wall, sneering as Shephard grasped the rope. _"Wanna try to come up here and knock _me_ off?_" That had infuriated Shephard, he used the pain, the humiliation, to grasp the rope tighter, pulling him up and over the wall.

But this time it wasn't pride motivating him, it was fear. Fear that his friends might not be there when he opened the gate if he didn't hurry up. He could hear Edgar crying in primal satisfaction as his energy attacks took down more and more creatures, but they were still loosing ground, soon they'd be up against a wall with no place to go. Saliva sprayed out of Adrian's mouth as his muscles twinged and writhed in pain while he scaled the wall. Finally his hands found the top of the gate and he hauled himself over, nearly letting go, falling to a quick death. He hung onto the ledge no longer than was needed to crawl along the top to the nearest tower.

Once there he slid down the rusted ladder to the ground below. There had to be a winch or something that opened the gate. Under a terrapin cover he found a recently used generator. Once he had ripped off the protective covering, he saw the misplaced car winch, which was what must open and close the gate. Frustration mounting, he frantically tried to start the generator, but was only met with the shunts and grunts of a stubborn piece of engineering. Hearing the gunshots just on the other side of the door Adrian kicked the machine in a frantic, childish move.

The generator crackled to life, leaving Adrian standing in dumb silence.

X X X

Katya's rifle sighted another Antlion charging her, and she pulled the trigger tightly, cutting a swath through the creature. She heard the rustling in the forest just off to her right before she saw the giant green insect crash out of the foliage. Before she could turn, though, the report of Adrian's shotgun blew the animal perpendicular to its charge, sending it crashing into a duo that was just joining the party as well.

"Get the truck!" Adrian screamed behind her. Katya turned and saw him waving at her from behind the open gate. Katya didn't bother nodding and sprayed another group as she pushed forward towards the truck.

"Edgar!" She yelled. The Vortigaunt conjured up another devastating electrical blast and began plodding in her direction.

"I heard!" He cried. Katya frantically pulled the driver's side door open and hurtled herself in. Suddenly see felt a searing pain, hot and biting, shoot up her leg. She turned and found her ankle had a long gash in it, a hungry Antlion rearing up for another strike. Katya tried to pull her pistol out of its holster, but she was too slow.

In slow motion the creature's talons descended downwards onto her, but at the last moment a hail of blue death silenced it. Sitting upright and slamming the van into drive, she saw Adrian covering their escape with his stolen AR2. The pain on her foot only intensified as she floored the accelerator, the old Eastern Bloc transport shuddering to life, it's wheels spinning wildly in the dirt before they finally caught, and they lurched forward.

Adrian sighted another… what had Katya called it? Antlion? His finger tightened around the futuristic weapon's trigger and the pulse rifle bucked in his grip. The Antlion's innards almost immediately found themselves outside their native environment. He waited until the van had roared underneath the tall wall before he kicked the release winch next to the generator, causing the giant steel door to come sliding down.

The van came to a roaring halt, Edgar jumping out, and Katya gingerly hobbling out, her rifle haphazardly scanning the top of the gate. Adrian pulled back from just behind the gate and did the same. They could hear the unsatisfied grunts of the Antlions on the other side, heard them slam against the gate, and frantically buzz their wings, trying in vain to fly over the top. One managed to barely claw itself over the top of the gate, only to meet its end with the crack of Katya's rifle. After that, the buzzing and the murmuring ceased.

Still breathing frantically, Adrian didn't let his guard down. His eyes constantly on the gate and the walls beyond that, he didn't let up until he felt Katya's hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, hey, it's over." She whispered.

"It's seems as though the Antlions have given up the chase." Edgar observed. "They will most likely search for other ways to breach the perimeter."

"We've already got containment teams on alert." Adrian spun around at the sound of the unfamiliar voice. To his surprise, almost a dozen men and women, all clad in the ubiquitous Resistance uniforms stood, their weapons in a relaxed, non-threatening, stance. The leader, a tall, slightly aged man with a salt and pepper beard and rugged looks, stepped forward. "You must be the resupply, Dirk radioed me that you'd be up this way. I didn't get a chance to tell him the South Gate had been closed off permanently."

Adrian just stared at the man, who sighed. "But where are my manners? My name's Allen." He stuck his hand out. "Adrian?"

Shephard nodded and took his hand. Allen smiled. "I've heard a lot about you, and how you cleaned out St. Olga." He turned to Katya and introduced himself. He looked to Edgar, his mouth turning up in a sneer, and looked back at his group. "Dirk forgot to mention that you were traveling with one of those… things."

Adrian's brow furrowed. Things? Weren't the Vortigaunts and the humans allies? He looked to Katya, who's face was unreadable. Seeing as how Edgar had not reacted to the maltreatment, Adrian chose to stay silent.

Allen continued. "Two days ago, another supply convoy was attacked just outside the gate, a larger swarm, tore the poor bastards apart. We reinforced the gate and set up some proximity motion detectors. The antlions are starting to move away from the coast and further inland. Some of the eggheads think that their expanding their goddamn colonies, and soon they'll be right below our feet, just waiting to crawl out of the ground." Shephard surmised now that they must have been called antlions because they acted, atleast in some small part, like ants of Earth.

Edgar turned towards the three. "We can feel the vibrations below the surface, as the antlions hollow out new homes for themselves. It is a most regrettable thing." Allen didn't bother acknowledging Edgar and turned back towards his squad.

"Eddy, Pile. You two drive the van." He turned back to Adrian, all smiles. "How about you and Ms. Katya here ride with me? We'll have a medic look at her foot when we get back to base." Katya nodded and leaned up against Adrian for support.

Shephard cast a glance in Edgar's direction. "What about him?"

Allen didn't bother turning towards either Adrian or Edgar. "Put _it_ in the back of the truck, with the rest of the shit."


	37. Search and Rescue

_Instrumental_

All Spark – Transformers Soundtrack

-Shephard's Epic-

-Search and Rescue-

Two sets of boots traipsed the dimly lit hall, their footsteps echoing far into the distance. They came to a stop next to a non-descript blue door, the words "Briefing Room" stenciled in white across it.

"We all set?" Jackson said, chewing on a cigar. His subordinate handed him a manila folder, which the Lieutenant thumbed through for several seconds before opening the door.

"Attention on deck!" Someone yelled, as almost two dozen men, all clad in the same white camouflage fatigues, jumped to their feet, backs straight, heads held high.

Jackson didn't bother looking up as he took his place behind the podium at the front of the room. Behind him several blue holo-screens glowed, lines of unintelligible code rushing across them. Sighing, Jackson spoke. "At ease." The men immediately sat back down.

Taking off his aviators, Jackson set the folder on the podium and looked out at the soldiers. They were an eager looking bunch, surprisingly so, seeing as how they'd just returned from the front to what they expected to be some well deserved rest and relaxation, or R&R, only to find themselves right back in the thick of it. Most of them looked old enough to remember what real R&R was like, a majority of Delta Squad were original members of the 501st, though some were new recruits, barely old enough to remember the smell of fresh air.

"Look," He began, slightly smirking. "I realize that you were probably expecting to grab some rack time, maybe catch a hot shower," Jackson's eyes fell on one of the specialists, an old friend by the name of Perez, who was staring lazily off into space. "I know Perez here was looking for some quality time with his left hand," Perez shot him a look as the rest of the squad struggled to contain their laughter. "But this is big, and I need you guys. You're the best we've got." At least for the time being, Jackson lamented. With the way the skirmishes were going, that massacre that passed for a battle up in Seattle, their forces wouldn't have the man power to hold their own very soon, and might eventually pass on into legend themselves.

Tapping several commands into a keyboard on the podium, one of the holo-screens lit up, a map centered on the Pacific, with the east coast of Asia and the west coast of North America bordering it, sprang into view. Their current position, a red glowing dot on the west coast, blinked.

"This is a search and rescue op. We gotta man stranded." A dot on the eastern coast of what used to be China blinked as well. "This is the largest rescue op attempted since before the war. And I need each and every one of you." The men exchanged glances, and the murmuring began. Jackson looked down and rubbed his temples, how was he going to explain this. Then the questions came.

_Who the hell is it?_

_What is he doing on the other side of the planet?_

_Was it some kind of special op?_

One of the soldiers, a younger kid, maybe mid-twenties, the name Michaels embroidered above the left breast pocket, finally asked the question on everyone's mind.

"Is it Corporal Adrian Shephard?" The room suddenly caught fire, everyone was babbling. The rumors had spread through the base like wild fire, everyone was talking about it. The Great Adrian Shephard? The Savior of the HECU? The man who had braved Black Mesa after being left behind, and as the Vortigaunts had told them, fought the monsters to the breaking point, only to disappear into the ether before that deadly explosion.

"Come'on Colonel!" Someone yelled. "If we're riskin' our necks, crossing the goddamn ocean to save a single guy, at least tell us who it is!"

Jackson's brow furrowed, he didn't want to tell them, didn't want to give them false hope. Even the Vortigaunts weren't sure if this man claiming to be his lost comrade was really who he said he was.

"And why the hell should it matter?" A voice bellowed from the side of the room. Jackson, startled, looked over. He grinned. Tower, Major Tower, was leaning up against the wall next to the door. He must have come in during all the questioning. His face was finally beginning to show signs of aging. His once solid black hair now sported hints of gray. His face had several wrinkles cross-crossing it, but they were all stretched tight as his face contorted in a look of disgust. "You're Marines, you _never_ leave a man behind, no matter who the fuck it is." The room was suddenly silent. "It's a shit job. It's been a shit job for almost twenty years, but we can't give up just because we got the deck stacked against us, we took an oath, and I'll be damned if I betray that." Tower's face relaxed somewhat, and he looked over at Jackson, nodding.

Returning the gesture, Jackson looked back out over the sea of faces. "Well okay then, lets continue. Now the bird is being prepped as we speak. As soon as we have meeting coordinates we'll be dusting off…"

After the meeting was finished and the soldiers had filed out, Jackson and Tower were the only one's left in the room. Sitting in one of the briefing chairs, Tower looked over at Jackson, standing in front of the map of eastern China.

Jackson finally broke the silence. "So, looks like Wilkes got you out of the brig." Tower simply nodded. "How's the hangover?"

Tower smirked. "A lot better, nothing to do in there but push-ups. Those are the best medicine." There was another long pause.

Jackson puffed out his cheeks in a defeated display of dismay. "Christ, Tower, you could have come to me. You didn't have to go straight to the top." George Tower chuckled and stood up.

"I don't want to have this conversation right now, Mitch." He brushed him off. Jackson took him by the arm.

"Screw you man, we're in this together. I can't have you going over my head. You need to get your shit together. The general is pissed off at you enough as it is. The scuttle is that he wants to put you on disability. A fucking desk job, you want that? The only reason he hasn't yet is because we can't spare the experience." Tower shrugged off Jackson's hold on his arm, but didn't move to leave. His head held low, he spoke almost in a whisper.

"I don't know where it all went wrong. I thought it'd be over by now, I never thought… I never thought we'd be fighting this long." Jackson's face relaxed into a frown.

"No one did, buddy, no one did. But look, I need you on this. This could be it, man. Adrian's back." Tower turned and shot him a piercing gaze.

"And exactly the _fuck_ does that mean? You think he's gonna come riding in a white horse and save the day? Jesus Mitch, what happened to _you_? You're just as bad as the boots! The Great Adrian Shephard this, the Great Adrian Shephard that…" Jackson cut him off.

"He's just a man, George, I ain't got no illusions about that. But you saw those guys in here before. They think he's gonna save them, that he's here to end the war. We _need_ that. _They_ need that, if we're ever gonna survive this." Jackson looked around the room. "We're running short of everything; guns, bullets, food. But man, man you gotta believe me when I say the one thing we're missing most is hope. Without it, all the guns, all the bullets, all the tanks in the goddamn world aren't gonna help us end this thing."

Tower didn't look at his friend; he was silent for so long that Jackson was about to give up hope.

"I'd given up hope…" He turned to Jackson. "That day when the general came down and gave me the news that someone had radioed him, telling him he found a drifter wearing Adrian's 'tags…I…I gave up hope." He laid a hand on Jackson's shoulder. "I'm here for you now, buddy."

Jackson smiled and took Tower's other hand, shaking it. "Glad you're back on board."

The tower men exited the room, and found themselves face-to-face with a short, stout man. No younger than fifty, his gray, balding scalp sported several scars, one traveling all the way down his face, across his left eye, leaving it a milky gray.

"…the _fuck, _Tower!" He said, almost throwing his fist in rage. "How the hell did you get out of the goddamn brig?!"

Jackson stepped between the two. "Colonel Butler, what a pleasant surprise!" He said with mock respect. The Colonel sneered at Jackson.

"Don't give me any shit Jackson, I'm here to talk to you. But you!" He pointed at Tower. "You and I aren't done." Fire burning brightly in his one good eye, Colonel Butler, the General's right-hand man, focused his rage on Jackson. "This is utter bullshit," He said, pushing a cream-colored folder up against Jackson's chest. "Search and Rescue of mission critical personnel? Do you think I'm an invalid?"

Jackson chuckled, which only further enraged Butler. The man was known for his brutal and ruthless tactics, tactics which admittedly had pulled the surviving remnants of the United States Armed Forces out of the shitter several times, more times than Jackson cared to admit. But he was a pretentious asshole, who was never one to simply let things go. So when Jackson went over his head, going straight to the General for permission to requisition troops and supplies for the mission, Butler was pissed, to say the least.

"Don't laugh, you son of a bitch! You deliberately went over my authority. You knew that Destovaya's got a soft spot for Shephard and you exploited it!"

"The _General_." Jackson said, stressing the rank. "Was the only one who understood the time-sensitivity of the mission. I didn't have time to argue with you." At this Butler exploded.

"You bastard! Do you have any clue what the chain of command is? Or did they forget to teach you that at Paris Island? Christ you fucking non-coms are all the same." Butler moved threateningly close, his tone hushed. "The _General_ has already green lit you little shits, but believe me, when you get back, I will march you in front of JSOC _myself_ and make sure your ass is _court-marshaled._" And with that, he turned and walked away.

Tower and Jackson stood speechless. Finally Tower chuckled. "And you were giving _me_ shit about the chain of command?" Jackson grimaced.

"Don't start. You know Butler wouldn't have even wanted to hear it. He doesn't think the mission is worth it. Too much hardware for one rescue op. You know he never bought into the myth like everyone else."

"Yeah, well at least we got the General on our side." Jackson sighed. _For now._ His conversation with the general had been short. He had already seen the communiqué, so was up to date on all the facts. Jackson didn't see the hope in his eyes that he saw on the faces of the soldiers, though. He thought he saw something like…pity? Regret at leaving a man behind? Jackson knew that the General felt responsible for leaving so many men behind in those hectic days at Black Mesa. Was he green lighting this mission out of some misguided attempt to save his own soul?

"And what about all that shit about JSOC? They wouldn't _court-marshal_ you, would they?" JSOC, Joint Special Operations Command, was the tribunal that governed what was left of the armed forces, made up of Generals and leaders from each branch of the service and special operations teams. General Destovaya was technically the _de facto_ leader, but JSOC had the power to call investigations, and yes, to court-marshal. If Butler really wanted to, he could have Jackson's infractions investigated.

Jackson, holding Butlers copy of the mission report in his hands, took out his cigar from his breast pocket and began chewing on it. "It's not important right now. Get you're shit together Tower, we're leaving."

"Let's go get our friend back." Tower said, a smile finally crossing his face.


	38. Pit Stop

_Hang your collar up inside  
Hang your dollar on me  
Listen to the water still  
Listen to the cause where you are  
Fed and educated,  
Primitive and wild  
Welcome to the occupation_

_Here we stand and here we fight  
All your fallen heroes  
Held and dyed and skinned alive  
Listen to the Congress fire  
Offering the educated  
primitive and loyal  
Welcome to the occupation_

Welcome To The Occupation – R.E.M.

-Shephard's Epic-

-Pit Stop-

The old jeep bounced on the road beneath them, and Katya winced slightly, massaging her injury.

"So like I was saying." Allen continued. "This whole place used to be a forced labor camp back in the day. The actual mine is about half a klick away from the processing center. We took it over and garrisoned it…" Allen rubbed his chin in thought. "Last summer?" He chuckled slightly. "Not like it ever really gets warm around here. Doc Vance says the early days of the war threw so much shit into the atmosphere that the Earth's actually in a mini-ice age. Jesus, and to think they were all bitching about global warming."

"Anyways," He continued. "I'm glad you guys made it out of there in one piece." Allen turned around in the passenger seat of the jeep and winked at Shephard. "Looks like you're all the badass Dirk said you were. We need those RPGs, in a bad way. We're hurtin' out here for some real ordinance."

"Dirk said you've been fighting off these gorilla-sized animals." Allen grunted.

"You mean the _hunters_. Yeah, I guess they are about the size of a gorilla, not like I remember ever seein' one, save in old National Geographics." The jeep bumped along the dirt road, and Shephard felt Katya shudder in pain. "They're the Combine's search and destroy drones. When Striders are too big, and their Overwatch forces too spread out to cover an area, they send in the hunters. They've been takin' my supply convoys down piece-meal. Soon there wont be any left."

"Where are you running supplies out to?"

"White For…" He saw Allen stutter, and then change gears completely. "Our bases out in the forest. We've got a few scattered supply depots and recon teams, holed up in old cabins."

Shephard furrowed his brow, was Allen trying to hide something? Back in the Marines, he would have expected Allen to say something along the lines of "it's classified" or "it's above your pay grade, grunt". There was something he wasn't telling Adrian, he didn't seem to completely trust him yet. Looking ahead of them, Shephard could see their transport, loaded down with boxes of rocket launchers.

And Edgar sitting, dejected, on top of several.

"_Put _it_ in the back of the truck…with the rest of the shit."_

Adrian looked Allen over. Why was he so angry towards Edgar? The Vortigaunts were their allies. Adrian, actually, had every right to hate Edgar. He shuddered at the thought of how many of Edgar's kin he struck down while climbing out of that hole in the desert. They hunted him down like an animal, but now they treated him with respect and dignity, a total one-eighty degree turn. Edgar had saved his life, saved Katya's, and for that he was eternally grateful.

Which was why seeing him treated like this was beginning to grate on his nerves.

"Dirk told me what you guys plan to do. It's a bold, gutsy move, following Freeman like that." Allen said. "But ever since the Combine hit Black Mesa East, and snagged Doctor Vance, Freeman's been on the war-path."

"Gods." Katya finally spoke. "They found the lab?" Allen turned to look at her in disbelief.

"You mean you haven't heard?" Katya and Shephard shook their heads. Why would they have heard? They've been on the run ever since _their_ hide out had been tossed by Overwatch. Allen was incredulous. "They raided Doctor Vance's lab, and took doctor Mossman and him prisoner!"

"Christ, how the hell did they find it?" Shephard asked. Did his group have anything to do with it? Their escapade in Ravenholm may have tipped Overwatch off. They didn't exactly play it quiet.

"We're not sure yet. Vance's daughter, Alyx, thinks they were tipped off. Someone on the inside." He shook his head. "Two of the greatest minds of the Resistance are now in the hands of our bloody enemies."

I'm just trying to save my friend. He's being held in Nova Prospekt

The memory cut like a knife through his thoughts. Jesus, he thought, that's whom Freeman was talking about. Vance, the kindly old black scientist, the one who had found Adrian all too familiar a face.

Allen smiled. "It'll be alright, though. Freeman's going to storm Nova Prospekt, and get our people out of there." Shephard had to grimace. As if one man could do _that_.

"He'd need an army to take Nova Prospekt." He heard Katya mutter. Allen's smile faded.

"Doctor Freeman's been in worse straits before." God, this guy acted like he _knew_ the man he so idolized. But before he could reply, Allen pulled a radio out from his belt and spoke into it. "Charlie, this is Allen, open the gates." Adrian looked ahead of them and saw the gate was really nothing more than sheetmetal welded together. Another winch powered by a rusty generator pulled it open ever so slowly, and the convoy moved through. "Welcome home, boys."

X X X

"Sandy, get Miss. Destovaya here down to the infirmary and have her leg looked at." The woman, dressed in gray fatuiges and sporting a red cross armband, nodded and offered Katya her arm for support, which she took. She looked at Shephard and nodded. _See you soon?_

Shephard returned the gesture. Turning to Allen, he saw him giving orders to the men off loading the truck. "I want half those down in storage room C, _yesterday_. And the rest leave in the loading dock, we'll have 'em shipped out later tonight." He turned to Shephard. "I really can't thank you enough for what you've done, these'll keep the bastards off our tail." Shephard saw Edgar jump off the back of the truck and amble their way. Allen sneered. "While your friend is getting herself patched up, we got plenty of food and hot showers. I've got to stay here and make sure these things get to where we need 'em, but my commanding officer'll want to see the both of you later tonight."

"The way I understood it. We need to make it to the train station by tomorrow night." Allen nodded. "It's not safe out there alone right now. The woods are crawling with hunters, and at night, you'll be easy targets. My men are running supplies tomorrow, it's safer to travel in numbers, and they can take you close enough to the station that you should be able to make it on your own."

"The Free Man will not dawdle, I suggest we leave as soon as we are able." Edgar interrupted. Allen narrowed his eyes.

"_Fine_. If you want to become bullsquid food, be my guest."

"The ones you call bullsquid are not partial to our flesh…" Edgar interrupted, yet again.

"Look, my CO gave me specific orders, to escort you safely to the wilderness barrier. I'm not about to disobey those orders." Allen looked to Shephard. "Now if you want to keep your pet on a leash, I suggest you grab some chow and a hot shower and meet me back here later tonight."

Shephard had had it by now. "Look Allen, I don't really think you need to speak to him like…"

Allen's cool was suddenly gone, and his voice took on a sharp, angry tone. "Like what? Like the ruddy piece of alien crap _it_ is?"

"He's saved my…"

"_It_ saved your life? How about the lives its kind took before they became our great _allies_? Huh?"

"We performed not of our own will, our consciousness was tainted…"

"_You_." He said pointing a accusing finger at Edgar. "You shut that disgusting excuse for a mouth, or so help me…" Shephard saw Allen reach for his sidearm.

"Don't do it." Adrian spoke, quietly but firmly. Allen's angry changed to surprise as his gaze moved from Edgar to Adrian.

"What did you say?"

"Take your hand away from the gun. I think this conversation is over."

Allen stared blankly at Adrian for a moment, wondering how serious he was.

Huffing Allen turned to the men who were off-loading the truck, who in turn were all staring back at the scene that was unfolding.

"What the fuck are you all standing around, gawking at? Get back to work!" The men immediately scurried back to work, unloading the plastic containers. Allen leaned close to Shephard. "You got a lot of nerve, you self-righteous bastard." His tone suddenly became quieter. "Let's hope it doesn't get you in trouble."

Adrian suddenly felt an icy cold hand take hold of his insides. "Is that a threat?"

Allen smirked. "Not against you." He casually eyed Edgar, who stood, passively watching.

Adrian quickly stood between Allen and Edgar. "Come on, Edgar. Let's get the hell out of here."

Edgar's eyes twitched quickly, focusing on Adrian, then on Allen. "Yessss, it would seem… appropriate."

Allen snorted. "You're goddamned right…" He turned and went back to berating his soldiers.

X X X

Adrian sat, weary hands rubbing equally weary eyes, in the empty mess hall, Edgar quietly squatting awkwardly in the seat next to him. Obviously Earthly designers hadn't taken into account their future allies' strange posture.

"I don't understand him, he _seems_ like a good man, but the way he treated…"

"Not all of your kind has accepted us as readily as the Eli Vance." Edgar offered. "He explained to us, after we were set free of our shackles, that humanity's consciousness was not united, as ours is. You form your own conclusions in the scope of your own experiences. We understand the hostility, though we do not appreciate it…"

"United, what do you mean? You all think the same?" The tufts of flesh that on a human being would have been the spot where the ears sat, puffed audibly, a Vortigaunt version of a sigh.

"We share our thoughts with each individual physical entity. Experiences, information, actions, all float within the Vortessence like a…" The alien closed its large red eye. "Like a _sea of information_, from which each Vortigaunt may gather and share alike."

"So you see and experience what each other is feeling?"

"The Shephard is quick to understand." Shephard saw several Resistance members mill about the mess hall, several picked at their plates in a depressing manner.

"Is it like this everywhere?" Adrian asked.

The Vortigaunt laughably imitated a human shrug. "We experience places where it is more favorable, yet many others where conditions are far worse. But this particular part of your planet is _ripe_…" The alien hesitated with the word. "_Ripe_ with hope."

Shephard hesitated. "So… if you can experience the memories of any of your kind… Do you know what happened to the soldiers who were at Black Mesa? The Hazardous…"

"…Environmental Combat Unit." The alien finished for him, albeit slightly slower, as if the words were new to his foreign tongue. "Some of ours have shared experiences with them, they are…"

"Hey you, hope I didn't miss anything too exciting." Adrian turned and saw Katya hobble into the cafeteria; gauss wrapped about her leg, but otherwise no worse for the wear. She maneuvered herself into a seat across from Shephard and smiled at Edgar. "So the scuttle is that you an Allen got into it after I left."

Adrian smiled awkwardly. "Oh, we just had a little… disagreement." Katya gave him a knowing look and turned to Edgar.

"Not everyone is as receptive to our new friends as some…"

"It is of limited importance." Edgar interrupted. "Not all consciousness can be as one. It is a uniqueness of your kind." He turned to Katya. "What _is_ of importance, is following the Free Man. We cannot wait for the morrow, by then he may have given the Combine time to marshal their forces."

"But Allen said it's dangerous out there, the hunters…"

"The Shu'ulathoi have created many forms of danger that roam these forests, we are as vulnerable with or without escort." Adrian could hear the insistence in their companion's voice. "Besides, the Shephard has proved himself as deft a warrior as the Free Man."

Katya grimaced, seeing the red creep over Adrian's face. She was about to retort when the loud speaker went off.

"_Attention, will Adrian Shephard and his party please report to the CO's office immediately." _The announcement was repeated twice more before it cut off.

"Well, I guess now is as good a time as any to tell 'em we're jumping ship early." Shephard said.

Katya groaned. "Yeah, out of the frying pan…"

X X X

Adrian should have expected it, shouldn't have been as surprised as he was, but he couldn't help it. The Commanding Officer for the Resistance outpost was a middle aged woman. Her hair was the color of burnt coals, her face weary, and not without war-scars. She looked a little like Captain Janeway from _Star Trek Voyager_, and Adrian wondered if she was old enough to have seen it.

Her name was Sharon Templeton. She took their hands in strong, confident handshakes, looking each one of them in the eye. "I want to thank you for the supplies, I hear you got yourselves into a spot of trouble doing it." Her eyes were fierce looking, and Adrian wondered if she hadn't seen more war and devastation than _he_ had. She motioned to Katya's leg.

"I hope the medic was able to patch that up without too much trouble." Katya smiled and told her there hadn't been any. Templeton turned to Adrian.

"I see you're all the soldier they've been talking about."

"They?" Adrian asked.

Sharon smiled. "Oh you know, the men. Sure, there's a lot of talk about Freeman, but when I look at you, I think of my father. He was in the Army. I wanted to meet you, before you ran off after Dr. Freeman."

"We wanted to ask you," Katya cut in. "Would it be possible to leave earlier? We were told you weren't running a convoy out until the morning, but Edgar here thinks that won't be enough time." Templeton looked to the Vortigaunt, raising an eyebrow.

"Allen told me about our Vortigaunt guest." Her tone was slightly more sympathetic. "I apologize on his behalf." She said, frowning.

Edgar held up a hand, brushing the comment aside. Sharon turned to the group, her frown still there. "I don't think I can authorize any vehicles out tonight. To be quite honest, I don't think you'd make it out of there. The last time we sent out a nighttime recon unit, no one came back. I can't sacrifice the hardware."

"You don't understand." Katya stepped forward, fishing into her pockets and pulling out the thumb drive. "We've got time-sensitive intel. We need to make it to Nova Prospekt while they're still busy looking for Freeman."

Sharon stared at the small electronic, and bit her lip. "I heard he planned to storm Nova, but I don't know if…" She hung her head. "It's just a lot for one man."

Shephard remembered Freeman's voice, the pure strength of will.

"He'll do it." Adrian said. Templeton looked up, shooting him a queer look. "He can do it. He's going to have the Combine falling over themselves trying to catch him, and it's going to give us the diversion we need." Katya looked at him in shock, surprised at his confidence in a man he had until now hated with a passion.

Sharon looked slightly defeated. "Well, let me see what I can do. In the mean time…"

A sharp series of beeps interrupted her, and Sharon hurried behind her desk, tapping an old-style intercom. "What is it, central?" The voice on the other line was frantic.

"_Lieutenant, I think…I think something's wrong. Over in the mine!" _Sharon's face lost color. She tapped the send button again.

"It's not…"

"_I'll patch you through!"_ There was a silence, Adrian watched while she stared intently at the intercom, a sheen of sweat forming on her brow.

"…_B and D are caved in, and C wont be able to take the stress much longer!"_ A voice yelled into the intercom.

"Soldier, Soldier!" Templeton yelled.

"_This the CO?!"_ The voice yelled over the putterings of small-arms fire in the background. _"We're in it deep, here. Eggers and Ross were in Tunnel B when the goddamn Antlions caved it in! They're coming in from every single tunnel, swarming the place. We've fallen back to the loading silo, but they just keep coming!"_

Templeton looked up at Adrian, her face a mix of stress and understanding. "They've been digging their goddamn colony inland from the coast. I didn't think they'd be under us this _quickly_."

The voice on the intercom was impatient, to say the least. _"We've lost five guys already, I need some reinforcements or we'll lose the mines! I just got word that the Myrmidont's have trashed D tunnel, we can handle the drones and the squirters, but if one of those big mama's gets through, it's all over!" _

Sharon's eyes closed momentarily. "Shit." She fingered the talk button, her eyes locking with Shephard's. "I'm sending help, son."

There was a long silence on the other line. _"…Freeman?"_ Sharon sighed.

"No… someone better."

X X X

"_No_, absolutely _not_, Adrian." Katya pleaded with him. "We don't owe these people shit. They weren't going to help us, why should we help them?"

"Because it's the right thing to do." Adrian and Katya stood outside the CO's office. Katya had her arms crossed over her chest in a disapproving manner.

"Cut the chivalrous bullshit, Adrian, these are _our_ lives we're talking about. Let them fight their own war, we need to get _this_," he said holding the thumbdrive in his face. "…to my uncle!"

"_Their own war_? You're starting to sound like your father." Katya became silent, and Adrian immediately felt terrible. "…I'm sorry."

Katya didn't have time to reply as Shephard saw Allen round the corner, flanked by two heavily armed men. They each had Kalashnikovs strapped to their chests, extra clips tied to their belts.

Allen was quiet for a moment, rubbing the back of his head in an awkward way. "Look, Adrian, I spoke to Templeton. We're short of men as it is, and word is you're a good soldier. She's agreed to give you a truck and supplies enough to reach Nova if you help us out."

Adrian looked to Katya, who looked away with a frown on her face. It wasn't that she didn't feel like she owed these people anything, she knew that in her condition Adrian wouldn't let her follow him into the mines, and she worried for his safety if she wasn't with him, even if she couldn't admit it to herself.

"Alright." Shephard replied. "Where do I suit up?"

X X X

Shephard sat on the apple box in the middle of the warehouse, loading his M4 and watching the men around him stare. Templeton was right, there'd been rumors about him. His garb was different, from a different time. He saw the men whisper to each other, catching several broken sentences.

"…_he broke out of C-17 Overwatch nexus all by himself…"_

"…_took on a whole town of Zombies and came out without a scratch…"_

"…_could crush a man's head with his left hand…"_

"…_heard him and Freeman duked it out, left the guy with a real shiner…"_

Adrian chuckled at the last one. Soldiers would be soldiers, no matter what year it was; they always liked to trade gossip. Not much better than a sewing circle, Shephard grinned. He slapped the mag in and pulled the action back, loading the first round. Picking a bandolier of shells off of the concrete floor, he threw them over his shoulder and slung his partner Stella, the antique SPAS-12 shotgun, behind his back.

The call to load the trucks came and the dozen or so men hustled across the small loading bay to the flatbed truck. Adrian saw Edgar, along with Sharon Templeton slip into the warehouse and follow the men to the truck.

"Come on, ladies, get movin'! We don't got all day!" Allen shouted at his men as he looked at Shephard, pointing to the truck. Sharon, though, pulled him aside.

"Adrian… I want to thank you."

"As long as you fulfill your end of the bargain…"

"I want you to take Edgar, the Vortigaunts have a history with the Antlions, he may be useful." Edgar nodded.

"Our kind had long domesticated the Antlions, used them as you do livestock."

"They don't sound like any cows I've ever seen." Adrian mumbled.

"They have been violently transported into a new environment, they are only trying to adapt." The Vortigaunt offered logically.

Sharon interrupted, seeing Allen tapping his foot anxiously. "It took some negotiating to get Allen to accept the idea, but you're to stay with Edgar at all times, okay?"

Adrian nodded and turned towards the truck. "Oh, and Adrian?" He turned. "I think someone wants to say goodbye…"

Shephard saw her, standing at the door, her arms still folded across her chest. For a moment she let the disapproval leave her face, replaced by worry, but slowly, she nodded. Shephard winked and shot her a thumbs-up.

Edgar climbed into the truck before Shephard. Allen stopped him and leaned closer. "Sharon's my CO, I don't screw with the chain of command, and so the alien slimeball gets to tag along." He pressed a finger hard into Adrian's vest. "But he's your goddamn problem, not mine. You play babysitter."

X X X

The truck bounced along the old dirt road, Allen said the entrance to the mines wasn't far.

"Sheckley." Adrian heard the rebel sitting next to him say. Beardless and, more to the point, grayless, the man was one of the younger Resistance members Adrian had seen. Couldn't have been more than 18 or 20 when the Combine took over.

"What?" A slightly older man, his hair starting to go salt-and-pepper, especially around his beard, muttered, almost inaudibly.

"Sheckley?" His friend must not have heard him.

"What?!" Sheckley yelled, looking up from his weapon.

"Jeez! Don't get so mad, I just wanted to ask you a question!" His friend whined.

"Jesus Griggs, what is it?" Griggs sighed.

"Well maybe now I don't want to ask you, with an attitude like that." Sheckley shrugged and went back to studying his weapon, a compact MP7.

"Suits me just fine." He muttered.

"Okay fine." Griggs said, exasperated. "Have you ever fought Antlions before?"

Shephard saw Sheckley tense, staring straight forward.

"So… have you?" Griggs asked, impatiently.

"Yes." Sheckley said, quietly.

"…How'd it go?"

"…Not good." Sheckley must have shaken the bad memory off, and went back to checking the action on his submachine gun.

Griggs sighed and looked over to Adrian. "What about you? I hear you've got a history of getting yourself outta trouble."

Shephard smiled. "Yeah something like that."

"So you fought these things before?" Griggs seemed to be the talkative one of the group, Adrian decided.

Shrugging, he replied. "Not a lot, just recently."

Griggs nodded. "Oh, you musta been that group that got attacked at the gates to the base. Heard your lady friend got hurt."

"She's okay-"

"Cause I saw her hobblin' around…"

"The doctors patched her up-"

"Why ain't she here then?"

"Damnit Griggs, will you _shut up_?" Sheckley shouted. The rest of the men in the truck traded smiles while Griggs folded his hands over his chest and leaned back.

"Just tryin' to be friendly, Sheck', didn't mean nothin' by it…" Shephard offered an apologetic smile. These two reminded him of Elvis and Costello.

The rest of the ride was made in silence until Adrian saw them close in on another a small grouping of buildings. Cyrillic lettering atop them suggested this area might have once been part of a company of some sorts. The truck slowed to a crawl as they passed a rusted gate, and entered a small trainyard. Derelict trains sat, and several looked to be recently cleaned out. The rebels must be working to scrounge together any iron ore they can get their hands on. This mine would be a valuable asset. The truck slowed to a halt but no one got out. Adrian saw Allen poke his head out of the covered truck bed and listen.

Silence.

"Okay, lets get moving. We got work to do." Allen said, as the men began to file out of the truck. Adrian hopped out, followed closely by Edgar, Griggs and Sheckley bringing up the rear.

"Too quiet." He heard Griggs mutter. Almost immediately he heard Sheckley elbow him, trying to silence the over-talkative rebel.

The men converged on Allen, who pulled a small map out of his vest and studied it. "The entrance to the tunnel is nearby…" The men followed him as he navigated between several tall ore distribution buildings, until them finally came upon a small elevator. The large freight lift looked sturdy enough, and Adrian put his worries aside when he saw each man step on it without a moment's hesitation.

The ride down was smooth and uneventful, not to mention quiet. Save for the creaking of the old gear shafts, not a sound was heard, the men all stood silent, looking from one man to the next.

_They're scared shitless._ Adrian thought, he'd seen soldier's act like this before, mainly on their first combat mission.

Finally the freight elevator came to a halt, the doors sliding open to reveal a large chamber. Finally he realized why the men hadn't spoke. They had been listening for the sounds of a fight. But looking at the scene of devastation before them, it looked as though they'd missed it.

Finally Allen spoke. "Jesus, Mary and Joseph…"

"Looks like we missed the party, huh?" Griggs quipped. The room was empty, the barricades to the three tunnels that went off like the spokes on a bicycle all smashed. Adrian saw several mechanical devices overturned or ripped to shreds. The men poked through the wreckage of the battlefield, looking for any sign of where their compatriots might have gone.

"No… no bodies." One of the men muttered. "Where the hell are all the bodies?" There was blood, sure, plenty of it. But the bodies that the blood had spewed from were nowhere to be seen.

"Cut the chatter." Allen spat. "Spread out, cover those barricades. Millard, check those turrets, see if we can salvage any of them." One of the rebels, an Asian woman, nodded and jogged off toward the overturned machines.

The rebels quietly and quickly spread out, in groups of two, covering each barricade. Adrian followed Sheckley, training their weapons into the darkness of the leftmost cavern. Shephard craned his neck, trying to listen down the tunnel for anything sounding remotely like the skittering of talons on hard, rocky Earth.

"What do you think coulda done this, huh?" Sheckley jumped, startled by the seemingly instant appearance of Griggs, his trademark smile plastered across his face.

"Shut up!" Sheckley whispered. "You scared the shit out of me."

"…cause it sure looks like it woulda taken a lotta of those things to take down six turrets!" Griggs went on, completely oblivious. Shephard saw the heads of the other rebels turn towards them, worried lines eched above their frowns.

"Griggs, I don't think you should…" Shephard said, trying to stop the rebel from inciting any more fear.

"…maybe it was a guard-" But Sheckley had his hand around Griggs' neck before he could finish his sentence. His man struggled against Sheckley's tight grip, but Adrian could tell the damage had been done. He saw the other rebels turn to eachother, whispering quickly. It spread like wild fire, until he saw Allen turn in their direction, his hands crinkling around an old map.

"Shut. Up." Sheckley whispered.

"Ack. Agh. Come…Come'n Sheck, I was…just sayin'." Sheckley released his grip, and Griggs leaned forward, hands on his knees, breathing sharply.

"Sheckley," Shephard whispered. "What was he talking about?" Sheckley sighed, and turned away from his companion, still in the middle of a coughing fit. He leaned close to Adrian.

"A guard." He sniffed and looked down the tunnel behind them. "Matriarchs or somethin', Vorts call them Myrmadonts. Big… bigger than the antlions. Supposed to be one for every hive. I saw one knock a dropship into a building once, I'll never forget it."

Adrian breathed in sharply, what the hell kind of creature could do _that?_

"Sheckley." The men turned and saw Allen pointing in their direction. Nodding, Sheckley took off.

"I'll…I'll be fine." Shephard turned, seeing Griggs still bent, hands on his knees. "Sheck…such a, such a kidder..."

X X X

"I just got off the horn with the CO. From what we can gather with the seismographs, they've hollowed out tunnels intersecting here," he said circling a junction of tunnels with a red marker. "at junction C/D, and here, at B/C. We've got word that C and D are completely or partially caved in, and B's probably on her last legs." He stood back from the table with the map of the tunnel grid on it and addressed the small group of rebels he'd called over. Adrian, Sheckley, and two other men, a tall black man everyone referred to as "Bull" and a short, stout Caucasian man named Charley.

"Long of the short of it is, commander wants these tunnels sealed, _yesterday._" He turned back to the table and grabbed a small knapsack, and tossed it to Bull. "Take this C4, use it sparingly, I don't want the whole goddamn tunnel system falling down around us." The man nodded and slipped the pack over his shoulder. "Now as for the rest of you…"

"Wait! I… I'm here, it's okay." Everyone turned and saw Griggs jogging towards the group, hands in the air, attempting to grab their attention. Allen groaned and rolled his eyes.

"Griggs, who invited you?" Charley scowled. "Get back to watch duty, and try not to get us all killed."

Griggs honestly looked hurt, his eyes falling to the floor. "Allen said he wanted volunteers. I'm volunteering."

"You don't know the barrel of your gun from your freaking _nose_. You'll shoot yourself in the foot, or worse, _my_ foot." Bull cracked, Charley chuckled and nodded emphatically.

"Shut the fuck up." Sheckley growled at the two men.

"Men! Cut the chatter." Allen spat. "Fine, sure Griggs you're in."

Griggs smile returned and he winked at Charley and Bull, who both rolled their eyes in annoyance. "So you were sayin', Allen, blowing up tunnels… and C4, and stuff."

Allen sighed and turned back to the map. "The first charge needs to be placed at the junction of C and D. That's not far from here, but since the rest of C tunnel is caved in, you'll need to take the service lift up a level and circle back around to get to the intersection of C and B. Now the seismic detectors haven't picked up anything besides the usual, low frequency ticks of workers and warriors." He narrowed his eyes at Griggs. "So you shouldn't be encountering any Guards."

"Is the power still flowing in that section, since the tunnel caved in?" Sheckley asked.

"We don't know, we wont know till you get closer. Keep in contact, if the juice ain't flowin' we'll send a team topside to work on the lift from above."

"Sir, if I may." Sheckley interrupted. "Shephard's Vortigaunt friend Edgar could be helpful if we find the section without power." Bull and Charley shot glares in his direction, they knew what Allen would say.

"No." Allen said, looking Sheckley right in the eyes.

"But sir, having a Vortigaunt in potentially infested territory could prove invaluable. Their ability to channel electricity…"

"I'm not stupid, Sheckley. I realize that. My answer still stands."

"Allen…" Adrian began. "Why send another team to the surface, risking their lives, if you could simply send the Vortigaunt on a mission with, what seems like anyways, a high probably of fatality." Griggs frowned at Adrian.

"Hey that's not nice…"

"Okay." Allen turned and glared at Adrian. "The slimy maggot goes with you. With any luck, he'll get eaten alive."

"Allen," Adrian growled. "Watch yourself." Allen whipped around and almost made to hit Adrian, but thought better of it when he saw the men staring at him.

"Or what?" He sneered. "That thing ain't any different from the scum crawling around down there. You've got a mission _soldier_. I suggest you hop to it." Adrian and him traded heated stares for a moment, before Sheckley finally mumbled something about getting ready.

Almost blowing smoke out his nose, Adrian turned to leave. He nearly turned and decked Allen when he felt his hand on his shoulder.

"No hero shit, okay? I want my men back _alive_, or don't bother coming back at all." Adrian shrugged the hand off his shoulder and turned to join the rest of the men.

**A/N: **I'm going to assume at least some of you have been wondering where I am! Well to be honest I had a major case of writers block, I had no idea how to go from my last chapter to another plot point I have already outlined, but I have it now! After several revisions, I'm here to stay. You can all thank Super Chocolate Bear, though, for his allusions to my work in his, and his kind words.


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